《The Black Briar Library (A Deckbuilding Library LitRPG)》 Book (0), The Prologue To A Thousand Stories Book (0), The Prologue To A Thousand Stories --- ??? --- Books of all shapes, sizes, and colors lay upon the atrium¡¯s gray tile floors, and where they don¡¯t lay on the floor they are carefully placed upon towering black bookshelves with rose vines lovingly carved into them. A light shines through the atrium, filling in everything with color despite the fact that there is no visible source for it, and the shadows linger in such a way that the direction they come from cannot be determined. Just past this light exists a foggy darkness where anything can linger and lurk, a shifting of shadows stating quite clearly that something is doing just that. That something¡¯s eyes stare for but a moment before disappearing. ¡°Hello there!¡± A cheery voice greeted, revealing a young dark haired woman that had most certainly not been there just a few seconds prior. ¡°You¡¯re looking a little¡­ lost, is there something I can do to help you?¡± The young woman waits for an answer, but none comes forth. ¡°Ah, I see¡­ You¡¯re dreaming not Dreaming¡­¡± The young woman frowned, looking a little disappointed, a look that slowly shifted into curiosity. ¡°If you¡¯re not a guest, then I wonder how you wandered into here?¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Once more there was no answer to the young woman¡¯s question, but this time she was significantly less concerned by this fact. ¡°You must really like reading if you made it here¡­ Hmm¡­¡± The young woman crossed her arms and began tapping her head while mumbling, ¡°Thinking¡­ Thinking¡­ Thinking¡­¡± The young woman¡¯s eyes suddenly burst open as she grew an excited smile. ¡°Oh! That¡¯s an idea! Hold on just one moment please!¡± With that request stated, the young woman ran off, disappearing into the darkness just past the atrium¡¯s lights. ¡°Here you are!¡± The young woman called from behind, appearing opposite the direction she¡¯d left via not one second later with a flyer in hand. ¡°I know you can¡¯t really answer me right now because you''re just dreaming, but I figured if you¡¯re here then that means you must really like stories! And well I could really use a bit more help around here¡­ so if you want maybe you could think about working here at the library where you can get as many stories as you want! Maybe, if you want, pretty please?¡± The young woman held the flyer out for a moment, the words upon it a jumbled mess, before hitting her knuckles on her head. ¡°Oh right, of course you can¡¯t read the flyer humans can¡¯t read in their dreams¡­¡± She sighed, before mumbling a quiet, ¡°I always forget that¡­¡± Not letting this miscalculation get her down, the young woman coughed into her hand. ¡°Alright, well since I can¡¯t really hand this to you now, I¡¯ll send it to you! The library¡¯s delivery boy, is the goodest boi in all of the Black Briar!¡± The young woman gave an embarrassed look. ¡°I just, uh, need to figure out who you are first¡­¡± Book (I) The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Prologue: A Magical Job Offer Book (I) The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Prologue: A Magical Job Offer --- Gregory Fischer --- Slowly his eyes opened up as he dragged his dazed mind from the delightful depth of dreams that he¡¯d been a part of and back into the world he was sadly more familiar with. Despite being awake however he found himself laying on his mattress for another thirty minutes, his exhausted body wishing to fall back asleep even as his mind forced him to stay awake in spite of the ache behind his eyes. Eventually a mix of his various morning needs was enough to get him to reluctantly roll out of bed to start taking care of them with a trip to the bathroom and a cold shower. Stepping out of the shower he pulled on a pair of half faded jeans, a white button up, and to at least pretend he was capable of being an adult a black vest before slipping on his glasses and taking a look at his reflection. A thirty-something man with brown stubble on his face and rings around brown eyes looked back at him with an exhausted grimace as he tied his shoulder length hair into a ponytail, the most effort he could put into his grooming today. Pushed on by a hollowness in his stomach he made his way to his kitchen before throwing a couple slices of leftover pizza in the microwave for breakfast. The paper plate went into the trash because actual plates were too much work to clean, and the paper ones were cheap. With all of that taken care of he stepped out of his spartan white apartment filled with used brown furniture and a couple of overflowing bookshelves, before making his way downstairs to the small repair shop below. ¡°Finally up?¡± Toni asked, the mechanic looking up from where she was tinkering away at a metal cylinder. ¡°Was starting to think I was going to have to drag you out.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ not today.¡± He grimaced, running a hand through his hair as he reached for the cigarettes in his pocket. Toni spun around in her chair before giving him a once over with her hazel eyes. ¡°Well at least your clothes are clean today.¡± ¡°Look who¡¯s talking.¡± He scoffed, flicking his fingers towards her oil stained overalls as he lit his cigarette. ¡°The difference is that this is a work outfit.¡± Toni scoffed right back, before pulling out the scrunchy she was using to hold her long ginger hair out of her way. ¡°Also I got something for you in the mail.¡± ¡°I got mail?¡± He asked in confusion since the only person who knew where he lived was Toni and he just gave her all of his money since the building and everything in it was in her name. ¡°Yeah, a job offer.¡± His one friend told him as she offered him an envelope from her desk before seeing his face. ¡°It¡¯s not the usual kind, it¡¯s for a library or some shit.¡± ¡°A library?¡± He repeated, not with interest but with much less hostility than his normal reaction to a ¡®job offer¡¯ as he opened the envelope, uncaring that Toni had already read it. (Dearest Guest Gregory Fischer, Having caught our interest as a loyal guest, we at the Black Briar Library would like to invite you in aiding us in the preservation and distribution of stories from across creation. Should you be interested in this offer, please go to your preferred library promptly for a face to face interview where you can inquire any details you desire. Sincerely The Head Librarian, Briar Black.) ¡°This isn¡¯t from the local library, and that¡¯s the only one I actually visit.¡± He frowned, getting the feeling that this was going to be more like his usual ¡®jobs¡¯ than he wanted as he eyed the emblem of a black rose surrounded by black thorns at the bottom. ¡°Sounds like it¡¯s for some kind of literary preservation group or something, figure it shouldn¡¯t be too dangerous if it involves books.¡± Toni shrugged as she watched him. ¡°Depends on the books.¡± He grumbled, scratching at the stubble on his neck as he tried to remember where he¡¯d heard of this ¡®Black Briar Library¡¯ before. ¡°You sure you¡¯ve never heard of this group before? Because I can swear I have, I just can¡¯t place where.¡± ¡°Maybe you heard about them at the actual library? You spend enough time there.¡± Toni pointed out. He didn¡¯t think that was it but, ¡°Maybe¡­¡± ¡°You going to look into it?¡± Toni asked with a careful neutrality that covered up both her concern and frustration to everyone but him, and that was only because he knew it could be there. ¡°I needed to get some new books anyway.¡± He sighed, because usually the library and its books were an escape from his work and all the other troubles he had with the real world. Mixing the two left a distinctly bad taste in his mouth that his cigarettes couldn¡¯t quite overcome.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Good.¡± Toni nodded before putting her hair back into a ponytail as she went back to her work. ¡°If you do accept their job, be sure to stop back here before you go anywhere else.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot.¡± He scoffed as he started towards the shop¡¯s backdoor, not really ready to deal with the people that would be cluttering the main street just yet. ¡°Yes you are!¡± His only friend called after him. Once out on the streets he found himself taking an instinctively long drag of his cigarette, the chemicals within soothing the rampant nerves he got whenever he had to leave one of the two places he actually felt comfortable. (At least the back alley isn¡¯t as overcrowded as the main street¡­) Not that that made him feel any better as he could still hear the hustle and bustle right around the corner and that brought him a whole other kind of anxiety, even if he preferred the anxiety of the unknown to the anxiety of people. A quantity that was nowhere near unknown. The fact that it took him two more cigarettes to actually get moving was part of why he¡¯d taken the backdoor rather than the front, because Toni -in her well meaning if blunt way- would¡¯ve forced him to get moving after the first if she knew he was still lingering. (Going to need to get more soon¡­) He frowned, realizing he was already half-way down his last pack, the skull marked carton only having a handful of the white sticks left. (Might need to accept this job just to pay for them¡­) With a sigh he stuffed the carton back into his pocket and started making his way towards the library, his eyes focused upward towards the numerous tall buildings that made up the cramped city streets, watching the dark gray smoke coming from his cigarette rather than the people that were around him. More than aware that if he focused on them he¡¯d end up stressing himself out far worse as he played numerous possibilities and impossibilities out in his head. The hike to the library was a long one that took him over an hour to make, a time he could easily half twice over if he was willing to take a bus but¡­ (That many people in that small of a space with me is¡­ it¡¯s just a bad idea¡­) And so after an hour of taking as many backstreet and sidealley shortcuts as he could -both to get there at a half-way decent time and to avoid the crowds- as well as killing three more cigarettes, he found himself staring up at the steps to the city library. His only real sanctuary outside of Toni¡¯s shop. Making his way up the steps, he found once more that in spite of the large amount of foot traffic on the road proper he was the only one actually going into the library. (Something about how people would far prefer to simply read on dataslates and similar than to read actual books.) Even Toni thought his preference for an actual book in his hands was odd, mostly keeping her mouth shut since it was one of the few things he was actually willing to leave the house for. Sometimes with a drop of enthusiasm even. And so like many times before he stepped into the library, savoring the way the marble walls dampened the sound from the bustling city surrounding them. (Wait¡­) His eyes darted around the library he stepped into, because unlike the small one he was almost intimately familiar with, this one was far grander. The smaller library¡¯s warm browns and bright whites had been replaced by cool gray and dark black as the atrium stood a dozen times larger and with a hundred times as many books as the library he was used to. The door clicked shut behind him as he¡¯d carelessly let it hundreds of times before, only sounding significantly more ominous and final with the way it echoed through the building. ¡°Shit!¡± He cursed before rushing back and forcing the door open, afraid he¡¯d¡­ find the library steps that he¡¯d just walked up and the rest of the city as busy as it ever was. (Fuck¡­) He grimaced, realizing he was having one of his episodes, before turning back to the library and¡­ finding that it was still the dark library he¡¯d walked into and not some kind of hallucination. ¡°The hell?¡± Blinking, he stepped outside before closing the door and opening it once more to find the scene unchanged. ¡°Okay¡­¡± Taking a few steps back he gave the outside of the library a once over and noted how the building was definitely incapable of containing the one he¡¯d seen. (Not that means much given some of the things I¡¯ve seen¡­) He once more stepped into the library before doing the (stupidly suicidal) thing and closing the door behind him. After counting to ten, he opened the door once more and saw that he was still able to leave and go back to the city if he wanted to. Meaning that he wasn¡¯t trapped here, (or that whoever set this up can¡¯t kill it on demand¡­) Ignoring his paranoia he left the door open as he made his way into the library, his eyes darting around trying to take in every detail to figure out what was going on, before pausing as he noticed the image of a large black rose surrounded by black thorns on the floor. ¡°The Black Briar Library¡­¡± He realized upon matching the insignia with his surroundings. He took another look around the massive shelves, his eyes briefly focusing on the shadowy patches of darkness between them where he could swear he saw something move before moving on. (Definitely not an ordinary library¡­) This wasn¡¯t the weirdest thing he¡¯d ever seen in his line of work, but it was getting up there, if in presentation alone. ¡°Hello?¡± He eventually called as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded up letter Toni had given him. ¡°My name is Gregory Fischer and I was given this letter about a job offer!¡± There were a series of thumps behind him. He turned around swiftly, his hands half raised into a stance before noticing a trio of pillars standing in a quarter circle each with a medium sized book on it. Cautiously he approached the pillars and once he was close enough to read their covers he couldn¡¯t help but scoff, ¡°Putting my name on a bunch of books¡­ real cute.¡± The fact that he could see himself using these titles for books about him was only mildly unnerving, the fact that he could take a guess at the subject matter of each book based on the titles was the thing that really bothered him. He blinked as a white page fluttered in front of him carried by a breeze he couldn¡¯t feel. Snatching the page out of the air he read, (The interview has begun, Please Select A Book.) He inhaled before exhaling. (I knew this was going to be a pain in the ass¡­) Book I: The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter I: A Story Past Book I: The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter I --- Gregory Fischer --- Deciding that this wasn¡¯t the weirdest interview he¡¯d been through given his current profession, he looked the books over once more while re-reading the titles in what he knew was chronological order. (The Flames of War¡­ No, don¡¯t want anything to do with that again. Smoke of War¡­ I¡­ I don¡¯t think I want to know how much they know about that¡­) Which left him with the third and final book, the one that he knew represented the current state of his life, (Ashes of War, the Remnant of Gregory Fischer¡­) The moment he took the book off the pillar, the other two books disappeared in a brief flash of light, so small that he¡¯d think it a trick of his mind if he didn¡¯t know better. He looked around the empty library before sighing as he realized this ¡®test¡¯ wouldn¡¯t be over until he actually read the book he¡¯d chosen. With no small amount of reluctance he opened the book¡¯s cover before it sprung open on its own, numerous pages flipping across, far more than could actually be contained in a book that could fit in one hand. As these pages flipped with an ever growing speed, some of them managed to escape their bindings and flutter through the air, soon followed by more and more until he was completely surrounded by a veritable storm of paper flying through the air. ¡°Once upon a time, there was a soldier named Gregory Fischer.¡± An echoing voice said, the paper parting just enough to show a picture of him in his brown uniform saluting. ¡°Who¡¯s there?!¡± He yelled over the fluttering paper as the picture flew away. ¡°Gregory was a good little soldier who followed orders, no matter how much he hated them.¡± The voice continued as the paper parted once more to show him standing over a street littered in bodies flames eating away at the edge. ¡°Who the fuck are you?!¡± He cried, his mind unable to help but wonder if this was all some elaborate set-up of some kind. Pay back for the things he¡¯d done, the things he regretted. ¡°Until he was given an order he couldn¡¯t follow.¡± The pages parted once more to show him holding a file in his hand with a terrified look as he stood in front of a smiling man in a suit. A chill went down his spine as he realized what this was about. ¡°So he didn¡¯t.¡± The voice declared as it showed him burning the file from before. ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± He admitted, steeling himself. ¡°And I don¡¯t regret it!¡± (If they¡¯re coming for me because of that¡­ then I¡¯ll deal with it.) ¡°The men he viewed as his brothers abandoned him for failing to follow his duty¡­¡± The voice continued uncaring for his words as it showed him sitting in a canteen by himself, a clear gap between him and everyone else. ¡°What¡­ what¡¯s the point of this?!¡± He asked the voice. ¡°Shame filled him¡­ Not because of the order he rejected, but because of all those he didn¡¯t¡­¡± An image of him clutching his head while surrounded by smoke appeared, the smoke parting just long enough to see things he¡¯d rather not remember. ¡°Why are you doing this?!¡± He pleaded, closing his eyes as he couldn¡¯t bear to see anymore reminders of his sins. ¡°Unable to do the job he was made for, they threw him out onto the streets¡­ A broken burned out husk of the man he once was¡­¡± ¡°Shut up, shut up. Shut up!¡± He begged, eyes shut to hold in the tears and hands over his ears to block out the words. ¡°This is where our story will begin.¡± His eyes shot open as he glared upwards, ¡°What sto-ry¡­¡± (W-what?) He blinked, finding himself back in his room, the library and the pages from before nowhere to be seen. (Was¡­ was that all just a nightmare?) He shifted before frowning as he realized he was still dressed in his clothes, clothes he could not fall asleep in since the collar would always choke him, reminding him of when- (Don¡¯t think about it.) On guard he took a look around his room before finding several oddities, the most notable being how his walls were made of blank white pages. (No, that¡¯s not right¡­ The pages have something written on them¡­) He got up from his bed and made his way to the wall where he ran his fingers over the pages and noted how the script, while visible enough to see, looked as if it had been written and then erased. The words too faded for him to actually make anything out. ¡°I¡¯m still in the library¡­¡± He realized with a frown before taking another look around. The book was on his bed. He swallowed down his apprehensions before making his way over and cautiously inspected the only real clue to whatever was happening to him. (The name ¡®s changed¡­) Instead of reading ¡®Ashes of War, The Remnant of Gregory Fischer¡¯ the book¡¯s title had changed to ¡®Gregory Fischer, The Black Briar Librarian¡¯. ¡°Not if this is what I¡¯m going to be dealing with.¡± He scoffed, hoping the voice or whoever was running this shit show heard him. Knowing that there was only one way forward (since they didn¡¯t give me a door out of this room) he picked up the book. Not quite trusting the book, he opened the cover fully ready to throw the book away from him, but unlike what he expected, this book did not force itself open and start spewing another storm of script into the air. The only thing he found behind the cover was a dedication of sorts.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. (For Gregory Fischer, The Man Who Burned So Others Wouldn¡¯t Have To.) The scars on his arm ached, as he felt something in those words¡­ ¡°So that¡¯s what this is¡­¡± He huffed, not sure how he felt about¡­ any of this. Instead of dealing with any of that, he ignored the knot in his chest and turned the page to the table of contents. The table of contents was divided into five sections: Synopsis, Current Story, Volumes Collected, Personal Library, and Working Draft. Under each of these sections were several more chapters, though the actual names of said chapters were illegibly written in a script that almost seemed to move across the page. The exception being Ashes of War under Working Draft. (Okay¡­ Now the question is what any of this means¡­) He flipped a few pages, landing himself in the Synopsis where- (A scream tore loose from his throat, almost as loud as the roar of the flame that devoured his arm.) (Smoke flooded his lungs, choking him with every breath as he stumbled ever forward in pursuit of his goal.) (All around him ashes floated through the air, painting the world gray as they left him alone with the dead.) -he slammed the book shut, his heart pounding against his ribcage as if were trying to flee from the memories that had just been forced out from the depths of his mind. Desperate hands searched his pockets for his cigarette, before pulling one out and lighting it with a panicking fervor for any relief from the panic that consumed him. He inhaled deeply, the cherry burning bright before exhaling a cloud as dark as his terror. Once he felt something halfway resembling calm -a state that took him at least five more sticks- he turned his attention back to the (dangerous) book he¡¯d left on the book. Its closed cover innocently gazing up at him. He stared back at the book until his latest cigarette was nothing but ash, before with shaking hands he opened the book once more and stared at the word Synopsis. It took but a moment for him to realize what Synopsis really meant, (the Synopsis of Gregory Fischer¡­ My¡­ My entire life¡­) He may¡¯ve only seen a few brief glimpses of his past, but they were in such clarity it was as if he was reliving those moments. (Whatever magic makes this place up¡­ It¡¯s compressed my entire life into a single book¡­) Frightful eyes read over the table of contents with far more reverence, realizing that the page numbers for each section were made of the same moving script that made up the illegible chapter names. Taking a gamble, he put his thumb half way down the book before focusing on Current Story and flipping the book open once more. He couldn¡¯t help but flinch, expecting another deluge of traumatic memories as the book¡¯s contents were forced upon his mortal mind. When no such trauma came forth he took a cautious look at the page he¡¯d opened and found a detailed pen sketch of himself sitting at a desk while reading his book. Opposite this was more of the eldritch script from before, only this time he could parse through some of the contents as he read over what looked like a list of some kind counting or describing something. Given how his name was written across the bottom of the pen portrait he had a fairly decent idea what these things were in reference to, even if he had to guess what some of these words meant due to the eldritch magic plucking the closest word from his mind rather than explaining them. (¡°Species: Human, Genre: Sci-fi/Fantasy, Classification: Cyberpunk/Practitioner/Scrapper, Derivative Addendum: None.¡±) He wasn¡¯t entirely sure what all of that meant, but from what he could understand it was all sort of fitting with what he knew about himself. At the very least it was significantly easier to understand than everything else on the page as words were replaced with symbols that he could vaguely recognize. (Slash, Blunt, Pierce, Mind, Spirit, Fire, Ice, Electric, Light, and Darkness¡­ With a skull over Mind, a shield over Fire and Ice, and an equal sign over everything else¡­ So Mind is bad while Fire and Ice protect and everything else is even?) That didn¡¯t seem quite right, even if he could see an angle where he understood it. Beneath that odd assortment of symbols were a number of small squares, most of which were empty but a handful of which had small ink sketches similar to his own alongside what he was fairly certain was a page number in whatever eldritch script this book was using. He focused on the first symbol and flipped the pages, figuring the book would open to it just as it had to whatever this overview of himself constituted. When the pages stopped he found himself staring at another pen drawn image that he vaguely recognized as himself -if with the details blurred- performing a rather straightforward punch. On the opposite side was even more eldritch writing, though far less detailed and with far less information than the one that had been focused on his entirety. (¡°Opening Strike. Cost: 1 Blank Page. Blunt Melee. An opening strike to unleash greater combos, the foundation of something greater for all martial artists. A Quick Read for Scrappers, Bruisers, and Infiltrators.¡±) After reading that he reexamined the picture, before recognizing that the image was of the exact same punch his style of fighting used to engage his opponent while still being capable of flowing into any other set of strikes. (So¡­ the book is also dissecting my abilities?) He frowned before flipping back to the Current Story and seeing that he only seemed to have five as far as the book was concerned. Which was all kinds of wrong given how he had learned, developed, and mastered his style of fighting during the war. Just to prove that point he set the book back on his bed before attempting one of his more advanced combos and promptly stumbling through the final few motions. ¡°Okay¡­ maybe I¡¯m a little rustier than I thought¡­¡± He was sure his ¡®work¡¯ had kept his edge from dulling, (then again most of my jobs are pretty straightforward¡­ Never need to bring out anything really fancy¡­) With a frown his eyes glanced back at the book and the few skills he had that it recognized, before clenching his fists. He wasn¡¯t a prideful man by any measure, often thinking worse of himself than anyone else, but¡­ He let out a sigh, not entirely sure what the point of all this was. He already knew he was nothing more than a remnant of what he once was. (Isn¡¯t that what the first book underlined?) Deciding dwelling on his failings wasn¡¯t going to get him out of wherever he was he went back to inspecting the other sections of the book, only to find both Volumes Collected and Personal Library to be empty. The final section, the one labeled Working Draft, however had what could best be described as a brainstorming page with a central circle where ¡®Ashes of War¡¯ was written with a number of circles branching off from it. Above this central circle was one labeled Prologue and focusing on it caused him to remember the words the voice had told him during the storm of pages with perfect clarity as well as the images he¡¯d seen. An effect very similar to when he¡¯d tried to read his own Synopsis if not quite as powerful. Three other circles broke off from the central concept, each one with a few other words connected to them but rendered illegible due to the way the eldritch script moved across the page. These circles were labeled Act 1: Depression, Act 2: Opportunity, and Act 3: Rekindling. A series of events that made him more confident in his guess at just what the person orchestrating all of this wanted from him. He took another look around the copy of his room, fully aware that he was currently trapped in ¡®Act 1¡¯ and if he wanted out of this place he¡¯d have to work his way through all three acts somehow. (But how?) If he had to actually overcome his depression, then he might as well roll over and die given how long he¡¯d been battling that particular demon with no success. A loud thunk drew his attention behind him, where he found a small black pen colliding with his boot. With a frown he plucked the writing instrument from the ground before looking between it and the book in his hand. Namely the handful of blank spaces that remained untouched in spite of all the eldritch script dancing across the page. ¡°This¡­ is either a really good or a really bad idea¡­¡± The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter II: Following The Narrative Chosen Book I: The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter II: Following The Narrative Chosen --- Gregory Fischer --- He put the pen to the page and found his mind drawing a blank, as if all creative muse decided that now was the time to abandon him instead of aiding in his writing as requested. With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair before reaching for another cigarette, hoping that lighting the stick would light something in his imagination. And lo and behold it did¡­ Unfortunately, the single muse he¡¯d gotten apparently decided to be something of a smart ass as the only thing he could think to write as he finished off his latest cigarette was the fact that his story would probably end with ¡®Death by Cigarettes¡¯. As he wrote the final letter of that message he watched eldritch script begin to creep and crawl away from the words he¡¯d written, slowly consuming the entire page before spreading out into the very air around him. He watched the writing cautiously, waiting for it to do something, anything that might help him figure out how he was supposed to get out of this apartment. All around him the cloud of script began to condense into piles of discarded cigarette packs and buds, littering the room in a level of waste that (honestly isn¡¯t as bad as my worst.) (Okay, so writing something in the book causes something to happen around me.) He realized, waving a hand through the air to try and shoo away the cloud of script that was slowly consuming the illusion of his room. (I just need to figure out how to work this into an escape¡­) He inhaled before letting out a cough and covering his mouth with his shirt. (Damn, it¡¯s getting smoky in here¡­) Despite some of it being spent to add to the ever growing pile of cigarettes, the cloud of eldritch script seemed to continue growing. Something that he could have dealt with if not for the fact that the cloud almost seemed to be pursuing him as he backed away, making it harder and harder to breathe as he continued to cough. (What the hell? This isn¡¯t how smoke behaves¡­) He gasped, unable to help but bend over as the coughing grew bad enough that he ended up dropping both the book and the pen. In front of him the book didn¡¯t shift a single page even as it bounced twice and the pen went rolling under the bed. This was how he was reminded that he¡¯d written ¡®Death By Cigarettes¡¯ into the book. ¡°Ah, fu-cah!¡± He dropped to his knees, scrabbling for the pen, his breathing grew ever more painful and shallow with every cough that tore through his throat. Bit by bit his thoughts grew hazy as his hand blindly grasped around for the pen only to grasp onto empty cigarette packs and burned out butts. (Shit, shit, shit! Where is it? Where is it?!) The world around him grew darker and darker, half because of the ever growing cloud of writing and half because of the ever shrinking air in the room. His hand wrapped around something cold and hard, and with what strength was still in him he brought the pen to the book and began blindly scribbling away at the page, unable to form a thought coherent enough to actually write anything down. As the last of his strength left him and he found himself without the strength to hold himself up any longer, the pen slipped out of his hand and he collapsed to the ground. The eldritch script continued to float through the air for several more minutes, even as it slowly faded away alongside the numerous cigarette packs and butts that littered his room. It wasn¡¯t until the last of it had finally disappeared into oblivion that he found the strength to once more pick himself up, even if he lacked enough to do much more than fall onto his ass and lean against his bed for support as he simply enjoyed the fact that he could breathe. He stared up at the ceiling for several moments before deciding. ¡°I¡¯m going to burn that library to the ground. In fact¡­¡± Yet again he took the book and pen in hand, he felt a brief moment of fear because of how close this wretched thing had brought him to death. Something that he¡¯d no doubt be inviting once more if he were to write anything else in this book, his instincts warned. Rather than listening to those thoughts, he promptly stamped them out before using them to feed the smoldering rage in his chest as he wrote ¡®Surviving Death¡¯ underneath Act 1: Depression, followed by ¡®An Invitation Arrived¡¯ under Act 2: Opportunity, and finally under Act 3: Rekindling he wrote ¡®Burning A Library¡¯. Once more the eldritch text erupted from the book, this time with far more force than the slowly creeping death that was the cloud of smoke. All around the room first aid kits and spent bandages appeared alongside bullet holes, blood spatter, burn marks, and dead bodies wearing kevlar, making the whole space look like a war zone shortly after the worst of it. (Really starting to feel like home¡­) In spite of the fact that he¡¯d nearly died to them he still pulled a cigarette out and lit it, the chemicals hidden within the burnable stick the only thing keeping him from trying to set this building on fire. Whether from fear or rage he wasn¡¯t sure. (We¡¯ll find out when I snap, I guess.) Opposite him, the handless door to this room swung open, leading to the rest of the house looking just as torn up as the current room and leaving him with little doubt what he¡¯d find out there. And so with a reluctance of expected horrors he walked through the building, making his way down to Toni¡¯s workshop where he stopped in front of the door. (So help me if they have a dead clone of Toni in here¡­) Knowing what he was probably going to be walking into, he put his current cigarette out on the doorframe before pulling out a special pack of smokes he always kept on him and taking a steeling inhalation of the chems coating the inside of his cigarette. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Not even two breaths later he could feel a warmth filling his lungs as he pushed the door open and stepped inside to find a scene even more out of a horror story than the rest of the house. The entire workshop having been torn apart with bloody tools littering the ground and corpses dead upon the heavier machinery their blood still dripping onto the ground. (Fuck, is this what the book considers ¡®surviving death¡¯?) As luck would have it, despite his worst fears, he didn¡¯t find a copy of Toni¡¯s body anywhere, instead her main workbench had a massive burn mark with a half cremated corpse underneath it. On the wall some of the ashes had been wiped away, leaving behind a very pointed message. If you want the girl Come to the Black Briar Library ¡°Someone is really testing my patience.¡± He growled, before looking towards the sky. ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, I¡¯m willing to put up with whatever sick test all of this is, but if you¡¯ve actually taken her I am going to burn all of you- Fuck!¡± He screamed as a knife embedded itself into his back. A ripping sound filled the air as the knife was torn out of him, pulling several pages of fluttering paper away as it did so. (The hell? Wait, no time.) He turned to his attacker and found a man in black kevlar facing him with a knife in hand. ¡°So, you friends with the corpses?¡± He asked as he rolled his shoulder checking to see how much damage that knife had done to him, only (aside from the pain it doesn¡¯t feel like it actually did anything to me. Is this all part of the illusion?) The man didn¡¯t say anything before rushing him with the knife once more. Gregory threw the book at his assailant, causing the man to deflect it with a sweep of the arm at the cost of leaving himself unprotected for an opening strike to the chest and the series of strikes that followed it. Unlike what he¡¯d expected, the final strike of his combination did not meet flesh, but instead tore through the air as the man erupted into a flurry of pages. He narrowed his eyes at the pages as he inhaled a lungful of his cigarette, the cherry barely moving as he did so, before opening his mouth and- promptly coughing as he choked on the smoke. ¡°The hell?¡± He gasped, eyes wide. ¡°That, that hasn¡¯t happened since boot camp¡­¡± Something slammed into his forehead, sending him stumbling back a step even as he caught the book that had hit him, finding that it was his own book -(of fucking course)- and that it had once more fallen open to the page describing the opening strike he¡¯d just used. With a frown he turned back to ¡®Current Story¡¯ before looking at the five marks that he was guessing described the various abilities he had. Not one of which really made use of his Smoke or his Fire. ¡°My skills may be¡­ rusty, but there is no way in hell I lost a decades worth of abilities. Especially not ones I know I could use just a week ago.¡± Admittedly, he hadn¡¯t been using that for combat so much as helping Toni with something, (but still¡­) Just to check this he clicked an icon that looked like his cigarette smoking, the thing that he¡¯d thought had represented the skill he¡¯d just tried to use only to find instead of his abilities¡­ (¡°Basic Chem Smokes. Cost: 1 Fantasy or Sci-Fi Page. Consumable The culmination of research into creating a combat enhancement formula. Highly addictive, both due to the power and the chemicals within. This is but the simplest of the series. Quick Read. Increase Power and Speed of the user until their next reading Turn. Checkout Renewal Fee (1 Fantasy or Sci-Fi Page).¡±) He inhaled before exhaling and deciding that while his ¡®special smokes¡¯ weren¡¯t common knowledge, they also weren¡¯t something that a group with the Black Briar Library¡¯s apparent resources couldn¡¯t easily find out about. (What is surprising though is the fact that these aren¡¯t the smokes I had on me¡­ Though it would explain why I couldn¡¯t do what I was planning.) Just to be sure he double checked the pack he had on him and found that they were still the actual mix of Black Cough, Anima Blue, and Red Fury that he usually carried on him. (So why didn¡¯t the one I use work how it was supposed to¡­ Wait¡­) He recounted the number of Chem Smokes in the pack. ¡°This is the same amount I had this morning¡­ Then¡­¡± He pulled out the cigarette he was currently smoking. ¡°Where did you come from?¡± As if to answer this question the burning cigarette came apart, turning into several pages of paper that fell out of his hand before merging into the book he was carrying. (I see¡­) Once more he pulled one of his smokes from the pack -this time not doing so blindly- and lit it before inhaling deeply and breaking into another coughing fit, even as a familiar chem filled warmth entered his chest. ¡°Still not what I was going for¡­¡± He gasped, as he checked the pack of cigarettes and yet again found that the one he¡¯d just removed had been returned to its previous place. (Alright, so this library is even more screwy than I already thought it was¡­) Flipping back to his Current Story, he checked the remaining three slots that apparently represented not his skills in general but rather the things he was allowed to use for this increasingly annoying test. (Let¡¯s see, all in all I¡¯ve got ¡®Opening Strike¡¯, ¡®Swift Dodge¡¯, ¡®Heated Fist¡¯, ¡®Basic Chem Smokes¡¯, and¡­) He paused and reread that last one, before checking his arm and frowning when it looked no different than usual. (I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m just going to ignore that one for now¡­) ¡°Either way, none of that included the rest of the strikes I used on that guy.¡± He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out what exactly was happening here. (I guess if Heated Fist is here then that means it¡¯s only applying restrictions to some of my abilities?) ¡°But what¡¯s deciding what gets restricted and what I¡¯m allowed to do?¡± Regardless of anything else, he was fighting with a handicap he didn¡¯t understand (and that¡¯s the kind of thing that can get you killed.) Then again, he was already planning on burning down the library for putting him through all of this, and given everything it seemed capable of (that might be a suicide mission all it¡¯s own.) Shaking his head he made his way to the door to the workshop before walking into it as it refused to open for him. ¡°Gah, what is it now?!¡± He flipped the book open to Working Draft, trying to figure out what the stupid thing wanted from him now before once more finding the words he¡¯d added to the second act. ¡°An invitation arrived¡­ Right¡­¡± Looking up from the book, his eyes searched the room for wherever the invitation could be hiding, (since apparently it¡¯s not the literal invitation on the wall.) Eventually he found an envelope sitting atop a small pile of pages that he was guessing had once been a part of the construct he¡¯d killed. After picking the envelope up and finding it to be the exact same one Toni had given him earlier that day, just with more ash and blood on it, he also noticed that the pages underneath the envelope looked familiar for some reason. He folded and tucked the library invitation into his vest before also picking the pages up and going over them. Idly he noted that the door to the workshop had swung open not when he picked up the library invitation, but instead when he picked the actual pages up. (Meaning this is what they wanted me to actually grab.) Going over the pages he found that similar to the other ¡®Skill Pages¡¯ in the book, these ones described one of the many skills he knew and should¡¯ve been able to perform rust or no rust. More specifically he found that the technique depicted by the pages was a simple [Scene Choice] The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter III: Man On Fire Book I: The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter III: Man On Fire --- Gregory Fischer --- (¡°Simple Parry. Cost: 1 Blank Page. Defensive. A basic defensive maneuver that deflects an incoming strike, while hopefully leaving space for retaliation. A step further than blocking, but only the beginning of the defensive arts. Reactive Read. Negate an incoming attack. Checkout Renewal Fee: 1 Blank Page, for Scrappers and Infiltrators.¡±) Once more he understood most of what was written down, but there were still words that he lacked context for no matter how familiar they were becoming. (It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ve got enough to work with for now.) Deciding it was best to hold onto the page, given how it was the thing the Library actually wanted him to collect, he moved to put it in his book for safekeeping. Only when he brought the page close to the book he began to feel a force trying to pull it out of his hand. With a frown he tugged the page away from the book and felt the force stop before growing stronger as he brought it closer to the book. (They¡¯re almost magnetic with each other¡­) Figuring this was part of what the Library wanted him to see, he let the page go before watching it get sucked into the book where it seamlessly merged with the rest of the book, looking no different than any of the other skill pages he¡¯d read within. Just to check that he went back to his Current Story, and found that (yep, six marks for my¡­ Skills? Equipment? Both?) He shook his head as he closed the book, knowing that either he¡¯d figure out what was going on with the book or he¡¯d burn down the Library and the point would be moot. (Preferably the latter¡­) With nothing else left to do here, he turned his attention back to the exit door hanging open while leading out into a void that he was even more reluctant to deal with than the overcrowded city that he lived in. He pulled out one of his regular cigarettes, and found that the pack was almost empty. (If they gave infinite refills of these then I might¡¯ve forgiven them for all of this shit.) Still he lit up one of his cigarettes, more to calm his nerves than infuse himself with power, before stepping out into the void as confidently as he could. Ready to kill whatever he found on the other side. Outside of the Library¡¯s recreation of Toni¡¯s workshop he found himself on an empty black street with a recreation of his city¡¯s library in front of him. (If this was how the city was actually laid out it would make my life a hell of a lot easier¡­) Not letting his guard down, his eyes instinctively searched the street for any hidden enemies as he crossed it, only to find the half-hearted recreation of the city to be apocalyptically empty. (Well, at least I don¡¯t have to deal with people, small mercies I suppose¡­) As he started up the stairs to the library he found his eyes drifting up to the sky above, before really wishing he hadn¡¯t. While the world around him was illuminated well enough to pass for the evening, the sky above him was an abyss of nothingness darker than black and emptier than the void. At least until you realized the abyss was moving. A massive bloodshot eye opened, staring down at him before a maw full of fangs grinned at him. ¡°Nope.¡± He decided, running up the stairs two at a time so as to get some cover between him and the thing that could crush him like a roach. He shoulder tackled the door to the library open, before slamming it shut behind him, and (really hoping that was just some kind of mind fucky illusion.) With his luck he knew it wasn¡¯t but¡­ He shook his head, and took in the library he was inside of noting how instead of being the actual Black Briar Library it was a recreation of itself made from pages scrawled in so much text that might as well be black. Cautiously, he started forward until he was standing in the middle of the atrium over the insignia of a black rose. ¡°Well, I¡¯m here. I got your invitation. I¡¯m playing your little game. What do you want to do now? More men in black to try and kill me?¡± Silence was his only answer. Finishing off his cigarette, he dropped it on the ground and put it out under his heel. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll figure it out myself.¡± Aware that the book had been the source of or answer to everything that had happened to him thus far, he pulled it out and began flipping through the pages until he once more found the ¡®Working Draft¡¯ section. (Okay, I survived Act 1, and I got the invitation from Act 2¡­) ¡°So why isn¡¯t the Library Burning for Act 3?¡± He was missing something. (Alright, so¡­ Library, Book, Story, Chapters, Drafts, and Acts¡­ Clearly there¡¯s a theme to all of this¡­ I survived death, thus beating Act 1: Depression. I got the invitation in Act 2 from those guys trying to kill me¡­ Which tied Act 1 and 2 together¡­ So to progress, I need to¡­ continue the narrative?) ¡°Which means burning the library down in vengeance.¡± While he wasn¡¯t one for book burning, he could happily make an exception in this case. (What¡¯s more they didn¡¯t take that particular option away from me either.) He flipped his book open to the page depicting his Heated Fist with a smirk. (¡°Heated Fist. Cost: 1 Fantasy or Science Fiction Page. Blunt Melee Fire. A technique born by fusing Martial Might with Technology or Magic to infuse one¡¯s fists with the power of the flame. The first true step to mastering the Fist of The Flame.¡±) He clenched his fist and drew on the power of the heat that was always smoldering within him, be it real or a hallucination. The air around his right arm began to shimmer, the heat bending the light around it before eventually actual flames began to lick away at him. Even if it wasn¡¯t as much as he¡¯d been hoping for, (there¡¯s plenty of kindling here to make it work.) All he had to do was introduce the fire to the pages around him and- He paused as he watched the shadows around him dance in the flame¡¯s light, quickly realizing that something was wrong about them. (The angle is all wrong, as if the flame was coming from-) With wide eyes he spun on his heel, and just barely managed to deflect a flaming fist before it could impact him. Not that that did anything to prevent the follow-up strike from hitting him in the chest and sending him flying with a trail of burning pages erupting behind him. ¡°Fuck!¡± He gasped as he hit the ground and bled the momentum to roll back onto his feet. ¡°Alright, who the hell¡­¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He couldn¡¯t help but trail off as he saw the figure in front of him. For before him stood a man whose flesh was covered in flames that slowly devoured him as his face was trapped in a richter of rage and hate that wanted little more than to burn the entire world around. A face that he had worn once upon a time¡­ (His world was nothing but pain and rage as he lashed out at anything in arm¡¯s reach, uncaring if they were friend or foe¡­) A face that was his¡­ ¡°So we¡¯re doing more of this memory lane bullshit.¡± He swallowed before standing once more and taking a stance against his burning doppelganger, all the while trying very hard not to think about what had sent him into this particular rage. Around him the library shifted and swirled as his doppelganger¡¯s flames slowly devoured it all before leaving them standing on a burning street with bodies littering the ground unmoving. Small bodies. He flinched. The Hellish Echo of who he was rushed forward with a fist full of flames, and all he could do was raise his guard to defend against the onslaught of strikes that devoured him. Unable to bring himself to do much more in the face of his¡­ (failure.) Another blow impacted his face, hard enough that he knew it should¡¯ve broken something, but while he did feel the pain (I deserve) his body kept no damage as more and more pages burst from his body. With every blow the flames consuming his doppelganger grew brighter and brighter, the heat building to a sweltering point he hadn¡¯t felt in years. As the flames began to flicker white, the Hellish Echo¡¯s fist hit him once more, only this time instead of pages erupting from his form he felt his glasses crunch as the fist hit his face, filling him with a pain far more real than anything he¡¯d felt since stepping foot into the Library. The moment real heat touched him, instinct took over and twisted the flames away, minimizing how much of his flesh they could eat away at before he twisted to move via his Smoke. Only instead of the Smoke following his will, he found the world around him shifting with the fluttering of pages before finding himself behind his Hellish Echo with a trail of paper leading between them. (W-what?) He blinked, regaining some lucidity as he found his Book once more in his hands. One of the pages fluttered in front of him and he realized he recognized the page¡¯s contents from within his own book. (¡°Swift Dodge. Cost: 1 Blank page. Mobility. The most important thing any combatant can learn is how to move to avoid being hit. Even better if they can do so swiftly. Reactive Read. When attacked, move a short distance away. Checkout Renewal Fee: 1 Blank Page, for Scrappers and Infiltrators.¡±) He frowned as he read that, more so when the page faded into nothingness as it touched the ground. (That¡­ that¡¯s not what I thought that meant¡­ That was almost like my Smoke Dash but¡­ with paper¡­) Paper was not something he could work with. At least not the way he could Fire and Smoke. This¡­ oddity was enough to have him reevaluating the world around him. A world that while extremely similar to one of his more traumatic memories, was also just off enough to remind him that this was all some kind of fucked up illusion from the Library messing with him, not the usual night terrors that he subjected himself to. Something that just served to piss him off once more. (And I can work angry¡­) With a growl he snapped his book shut before tossing it to the side, not really caring if it burned or not as he glared at the Hellish Echo whose right arm was wreathed in white flames that seemed to lash out at the very world around them. He inhaled before exhaling as he once more took his stance. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s try this again.¡± The Hellish Echo snarled a sound inhuman, before rushing forward with another Heat Fist from the blazing white arm. Instead of letting it hit him this time, he parried the blow off with his own right arm before using an Opening Strike on the Echo¡¯s solar plexus and following up with a flurry of body shots that ended with a hook to the Echo¡¯s jaw. The Hellish Echo stumbled back a step before swinging its arm with a clawing motion. One that he more than recognized as he ducked under a wave of flames before delivering a Heat Fist infused uppercut of his own. A blow that touched nothing but smoke as the Hellish Echo Smoke Dashed away, before entering a boxing stance and punching out a series of crimson fireballs in his direction. More on returning instinct than anything else, he pulled on his own power to use Smoke Dash, only to instead use the odd Swift Dodge again to avoid the spell series that detonated behind him as he closed the distance between him and the Echo. Reappearing in front of the Hellish Echo he slipped one of his Chem Smokes into his mouth before ducking under a sloppy hook from the Echo and taking it a step further by twisting its flames to light his own cigarette. Inhaling deeply, he felt the power of the Smoke flood his body as he firmed his footing on the ground before delivering another Heat Fist to the Hellish Echo¡¯s stomach, the flames blooming twice as far as any of his previous blows. The Hellish Echo skidded back on its heels, not being sent flying like he himself had, before turning a snarling glare upon him. ¡°What? Getting tired?¡± He asked in between rough breaths of his own as took note of the slowly spreading patches of burned flesh on his doppelganger. This question seemed to only enrage the Hellish Echo further if that was possible, as it took a stance he recognized even if he hadn¡¯t used it in years. The doppelganger drawing its blazing arm back with its right leg as the flames dancing around it began to circle around the echo. He couldn¡¯t help but scoff, even as phantom pains began to eat away at his body, ¡°Trust me, when I say¡­you really don¡¯t want to do that¡­¡± Rather than heeding his warning, his doppelganger¡¯s arm grew even brighter, enough so that he couldn¡¯t look at it directly as he rushed forward, knowing that he could not let that spell hit him. The Hellish Echo punched, causing the entire world to flash a blinding white as a destructive white flame devoured everything in front of his doppelganger rendering everything it touched nothing but ash. Something that he was quite content to not witness again as he dropped to the ground and dove through the far less dangerous red flames that had gathered around the Echo¡¯s feet. Even if he could still feel them burning him as he worked his magic to keep the white flames as far away from him as possible. When the light finally died down he found himself lying on the ground in a world much darker than before as all but the most stubborn of cinders had been snuffed out by the white flame that had for a moment devoured all the air on the street, leaving it hard for anything to breathe. Next to him his Hellish Echo fell to its knees, all of its fire having been consumed by the Morningstar it had unleashed. With what strength he had left he forced himself onto his own knees so that he could get a better look at the damage. The massive crater filled with embers stretching down half the street was something he¡¯d expected, as was the fact that Hellish Echo was now down an arm. ¡°Warned you, you didn¡¯t want to do that.¡± He sighed, looking at his right arm. Something he hadn¡¯t been expecting to get a page in his book even if he really should¡¯ve. (Toni¡¯s Prosthetic Arm Cost: 1 Science Fiction Page. Tech Equipment (Arm). A simple creation of a technological genius. The mere beginnings of what she could create, only held back due to fear of burning what remained of her friend. Restriction Read: This Page may only be equipped to a Cyberpunk unit with an (Arm) equipped or an ability equipping an (Arm). If this unit has any Heat stacks, increase the power of their Melee attacks and abilities by that amount.) With a wistful sigh he lowered his metal limb before climbing back to his feet and looking down at his Hellish Echo. The doppelganger no longer consumed by rage or fire, looked completely and utterly burned out a mere husk of what it had been a few moments prior. He lit one of his last two cigarettes before offering the last one to his doppelganger, knowing that if it felt anything like he did then he couldn¡¯t hurt it anymore than it already was. (My anger always did burn hot and fast I suppose¡­) To his surprise the doppelganger actually took the cigarette and put it to its lips before struggling to light the flame, something he always did with- He gripped the end of the Echo¡¯s cigarette and snapped the fingers of his right hand, lighting it. They both just sat there for a moment, watching ash drift through the air, the only remnant of the things that had gotten them into this fight in the first place. ¡°Do¡­ do we¡­ quit burning?¡± His younger self asked, sounding as lost as he had for years. Which is why he actually thought about it for a moment, perhaps for the first moment even. He didn¡¯t think about the events that burned him out until he became little more than a husk of himself, because he thought about those daily. But rather he thought about where he was, where he¡¯d been since the day he burned. The way he just went through the motions of it all, waking up, pretending for Toni¡¯s sake, working so that she could live as she wished in spite of him holding her back, drowning himself in stories so he wouldn¡¯t have to think about his own. He stared into the cherry glowing at the end of his cigarette for another moment, before telling his younger self, []- ¡°Yes.¡± (It has to¡­) []- ¡°No.¡± (It won¡¯t¡­) Book I: The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter IV: From The Ashes Book I: The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter IV: From The Ashes --- Gregory Fischer --- His younger self stared at him for a moment before letting out a huff of grim amusement. ¡°We¡¯ve always been a terrible liar¡­¡± ¡°We have.¡± He admitted, standing where he was and looking at where he came from. ¡°But if hope is a lie¡­ then I don¡¯t mind believing in a lie¡­ Maybe¡­ Maybe if we believe it enough it¡¯ll even become true.¡± His doppelganger was silent as they both continued to smoke until their cigarettes had burned away to nothing. ¡°Yeah¡­ Hope isn¡¯t the worst lie to believe in¡­¡± From beside him his younger self began to glow before slowly unraveling into a number of golden pages that floated through the air as the world around him rapidly dissolved into a storm of pages much like the one that first constructed the world around him. Unlike before there was no echoing voice from all around, or images from his past, instead the pages leaving behind nothing but an empty void as they aligned themselves, stacking together until they¡¯d formed a coverless book. One that read, (¡°Ashes of War, The Remnant of Gregory Fischer.¡±) The book floated there, waiting for him to take it as the shadows danced around them despite nothing being visible outside of a spotlight with no source shining down from above. He inhaled before exhaling and taking the book into hand. And so with an odd mix of feelings that were half resignation and half acceptance, he opened the cover of the book much like he had before all of this and when the book didn¡¯t move on its own he began to read. ¡°Once upon a time, there was a soldier named Gregory Fischer.¡± He swallowed looking down at the image of him in a uniform he¡¯d burned long ago, the picture almost moving from how lifelike it was. ¡°Gregory was a good little soldier who followed orders, no matter how much he hated them.¡± He continued his eyes going over the page of what had once been just a burning street covered in bodies but was now shifting between the numerous things he¡¯d done while ¡®just following orders¡¯. ¡°Until he was given an order he couldn¡¯t follow.¡± He growled, looking at the picture of how scared he¡¯d been of a man in a suit who could only make others fight his battles. ¡°So he didn¡¯t.¡± He declared, feeling the same sort of resolve he had when he¡¯d first burned those documents before doing what he¡¯d had to. ¡°The men he viewed as his brothers abandoned him for failing to follow his duty.¡± He frowned, at the image of him sitting in a canteen by himself, a clear gap between him and everyone else. And for the first time he broke the script. ¡°And he accepted that, unwilling to have ¡®brothers¡¯ who chose ¡®duty¡¯ over ¡®morality¡¯.¡± His mind flashed to Toni. ¡°Especially when not all of them abandoned him for this.¡± To his surprise his additional words carved themselves onto the page, and the image of his forlorn self sitting alone was replaced by a determined version of himself marching away from the table as Toni pursued with a concerned look.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Something¡­ Something filled his chest at this, his mind beginning to grasp a revelation he couldn¡¯t put into words yet. Which is why he continued with a voice of steel despite the shaking in his chest. ¡°Shame filled him¡­ Not because of the order he rejected, but because of all those he didn¡¯t¡­¡± The image of him clutching his head while surrounded by smoke of the past still hurt to look at, (but¡­) ¡°Each a mistake he could not afford to repeat¡­ Which is why he wouldn¡¯t.¡± The day his military career ended be it officially or unofficially played out with him emptying his locker before slamming it shut as he marched away with a smoldering glare just looking for something to burn. ¡°Unable to do the job he was made for, they-¡± He paused, remembering that day really remembering it. Not simply the fact that they¡¯d washed their hands of him, but the fact that that had happened after¡­ He swallowed before starting once more. ¡°Unable to do the job they demanded, he left it all behind, happy to leave it all a burned out husk of what he¡¯d once seen it as.¡± For a moment he was scared that whatever magic was fueling all of this wouldn¡¯t accept his new version, but the old words were removed and his new ones were written as he watched his younger self march out of his old base with a fire in his eyes. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± He whispered, as the shifting in his chest settled and he finally realized what the point of all this was. Instead of writing this down, the book in his hands flipped to a new page, one that was blank of any image or writing. He could remember what the voice had told him before, about how this was where his story began, but¡­ (That¡¯s not right¡­) ¡°Gregory Fischer, lived his life as best he could alongside his best friend Toni.¡± He told the book and whoever else was listening. ¡°Unregretful of the choices that he¡¯d made those days.¡± A picture formed alongside the text of him helping out around Toni¡¯s newly opened workshop they¡¯d both paid for. He licked his lips before continuing, feeling like a sinner in a confessional as the book turned to a new page. ¡°Sadly, this was not the beginning of his happily ever after¡­ For as much as he wished otherwise the guilt of the past continued to burn away at him.¡± An image of himself walking through the streets with a cloud of smoke behind him came into existence, the smoke filled with bad memories that burned at the world around them. ¡°Eventually, he became little more than a husk of himself¡­ Scared to go outside¡­ Not because of anyone else¡¯s grand scheme, but¡­ because he was scared he¡¯d burn the world like he¡¯d burned himself.¡± The page revealed one of his more shameful moments, an image of himself lashing out at someone in the middle of the street because the memories had become too much and someone who didn¡¯t deserve it got too close. ¡°Every day was a fight with himself to get out of bed, let alone do much else¡­ And for years he lived as little more than a husk of himself.¡± A picture showed him sitting in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a cigarette in his mouth as his room slowly filled with cigarettes, until the whole place looked like he really was going to die via ¡®Death By Cigarettes¡¯. He was silent for a moment before once more steeling his resolve. ¡°At least until he was given an invitation to a certain library.¡± The new page showed Toni offering him the invitation that had brought him here. ¡°An invitation that prompted him to face his demons, whether he liked it or not.¡± The image changed to one of him fighting a burning version of himself in a mirror, something that¡­ bothered him more than it should. ¡°Demons he sought to make peace with in spite of everything.¡± Once more the picture shifted, this time to show him and his younger self sharing a smoke. (That¡¯s better¡­) ¡°This¡­ This is where our story begins.¡± The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter V: A Flame Rekindles Book (I): The Remnant of Gregory Fischer, Chapter V: A Flame Rekindles --- Gregory Fischer --- ¡°Well done! Truly brilliant!¡± A voice called, applause echoing as a light flashed and he found himself back in the library atrium standing in front of a smiling young woman with dark hair wearing glasses and black button up vest over a white long sleeved blouse. ¡°I¡¯ll admit I was a little worried things wouldn¡¯t work out for a moment there, but you managed to turn it all around!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ thanks.¡± He managed to get out as he dealt with something of an emotional whiplash, before slowly pulling himself together. ¡°But, um, who are you exactly?¡± ¡°Oh, sorry I got so caught up in your story telling that I almost forgot.¡± The woman grinned wryly as she adjusted her glasses. ¡°I¡¯m Briar Black, The Head Librarian of the Black Briar Library.¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± He nodded slowly as his eyes narrowed. ¡°And going by your name I¡¯m also guessing you¡¯re the owner of the library too?¡± Briar winced as she gained a sheepish look. ¡°Heh, sort of¡­ We were, uh, we were named for the same thing¡­ Sort of¡­ Let¡¯s just¡­ move on from the name thing¡­¡± ¡°Okay.¡± He acquiesced, figuring the oddity of her name was less important than her admitting she was near the top of the food chain for this place. ¡°But I¡¯m guessing that means you¡¯re the one I should be¡­ thanking for my invitation here?¡± ¡°Heh, you don¡¯t, you don¡¯t have to do that.¡± Briar assured him bashfully as she twirled some of her hair, clearly wishing he would. Regardless, given the emotional rollercoaster of the last hour he wasn¡¯t sure whether he actually should thank her, even with his recent resolution. Which is why he instead asked, ¡°If I may, what made you decide to send me that invitation?¡± Briar looked vaguely disappointed before giving him a smile. ¡°Well, you see, we¡¯re still building the library up. I was only recently put in charge and I still need to staff it with Librarians who can do everything we need doing around here.¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± He nodded once more. ¡°That doesn¡¯t really explain why you invited me, given how I¡¯m not a librarian.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a Librarian, yet.¡± Briar corrected him with a wag of her finger. ¡°I think it¡¯s safe to say after your performance here you are clearly Librarian material. Enough so that I¡¯m surprised no other library has tried to scoop you up yet.¡± He inhaled and exhaled almost wishing he hadn¡¯t given his last smoke to his younger self as he tapped his fingers against his leg. ¡°Alright, but how did you know I was going to be ¡®librarian material¡¯ before¡­ all of this.¡± Briar rolled her eyes, and gave him an amused grin. ¡°Because you found your way here on your own, of course!¡± ¡°So, you didn¡¯t bring me here from my normal library?¡± He asked as plainly as he could. ¡°Well, yeah, I did this time.¡± Briar admitted, before adding, ¡°But I didn¡¯t do that the first time you came here!¡± ¡°The¡­ first time?¡± He frowned, fairly certain he hadn¡¯t stepped foot in this place prior to getting his invitation. ¡°Yeah, you know when you wandered in here while- Oh!¡± Briar hit her forehead. ¡°You were Dreaming and people forget those!¡± He pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°So, you¡¯re saying I came here in a dream?¡± (Which fits since this whole thing has been a fever dream.) If not for the pain he¡¯d been feeling he¡¯d think he was actually in one. ¡°Yep!¡± Briar grinned as if what she was saying made perfect sense. He took a deep breath before reaching for one of his ¡®special smokes¡¯ less because he needed the firepower and more because he needed something to take the edge off of his mounting frustration. Which in turn led him into thinking about something he¡¯d been wondering about. ¡°So, moving on¡­ I¡¯ve got to ask about the whole book thing?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s something I¡¯ve set up for all of my Librarians to help them with their work.¡± The Head Librarian explained with no small amount of cheer or confidence. ¡°I figured giving you your Book during your test would help you with reading your story volume.¡± ¡°My story volume?¡± He repeated, having an idea of what that was given the book in his hand but not entirely sure. ¡°Yeah, I figured proof-reading your own story would be easier than doing it for someone else. After all, since it¡¯s your story you can more easily fix any issues that you find.¡± Briar elaborated. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve workshopped the final draft of the current volume, I¡¯ve gone ahead and added it to your collection so you can more easily reference it in your book.¡± He looked at the book in his hands, not really surprised to find that it had reverted back to the book he¡¯d carried throughout his previous trial. With next to no effort the book fell open to its table of contents, where he once more spotted a section ¡®Volumes Collected¡¯. The moment he focused on it the paged began to flip before he found a secondary index with his name at the top and three lines things listed in eldritch text beneath it. (¡°Gregory Fischer -Overarching -The Black Briar LibrarianIf you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. -The Ashes of War.¡±) He focused on the ¡®Overarching¡¯ text, and just as it had before the pages flipped until he found himself staring at a swarm of shifting eldritch writing far denser than anything he¡¯d seen before barring his synopsis. Enough so that he was fairly certain that if he were to actually turn the page¡­ it wouldn¡¯t go well for him. Which is why he instead focused on what text he could actually understand, slowly piecing together something that roughly read as, (¡°The Man Who Burned: At the start of every combat chapter and whenever this unit plays a card, this unit gains a stack of Heat. Additionally, at the start of a Reading search your Library for a 1-Cost Arm Equipment Page and equip it to this unit for free.¡±) He couldn¡¯t help but close the books as he felt an ice pick driving itself through his eyes as he tried to process the words he¡¯d just read. ¡°What¡­ what does any of that mean?¡± ¡°Ah, right¡­ You aren¡¯t used to reading Eldritch truths¡­¡± Briar grimaced in sympathy before giving him a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry it gets easier as the psionic scarring builds.¡± ¡°The, the what?¡± He blinked, his head still pounding. ¡°It¡¯s not important.¡± Briar assured him as she got him to sit in a chair that wasn¡¯t behind him just a moment ago, before handing him a cup of coffee off the table that had appeared in between his blinks. (Damn, I must really be out of it¡­) ¡°Feeling better?¡± Briar asked him after a moment of nursing his drink. ¡°Yeah¡­ I think so¡­¡± He slowly answered. ¡°My head is feeling a lot clearer at the very least.¡± ¡°Good. That¡¯s good.¡± Briar nodded, sipping at her own drink. ¡°Since you¡¯re a little more here, how about we get back on topic?¡± ¡°Back on topic?¡± He frowned, his head briefly wincing as he even thought about opening the book again. ¡°Yeah, I mentioned before that all of this was an interview to see if you¡¯d be a good fit for the Black Briar Library, and¡­ You are!¡± Briar grinned with a small cheer. He gave the librarian a confused look. ¡°And¡­ and what does that mean exactly?¡± ¡°Well, if you accept the job your work will alternate between in house work helping to structure and clean up the Library and more field inclusive work collecting stories and proof reading them as you do so.¡± Briar explained in a more professional tone than she¡¯d been using, almost as if she¡¯d rehearsed this part. ¡°And collecting stories¡­ I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s going to be like what I did today?¡± He grimaced. ¡°Yes, and no. While you will be going out and collecting stories, we shouldn¡¯t have to recreate someone¡¯s past the way you did today. Unless you think it¡¯d help with your proof reading?¡± Briar asked with a tilt of her head, as if she wasn¡¯t sure whether or not it would help him. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡± He admitted, not actually sure what ¡®proof reading¡¯ would entail if not what he¡¯d just been through. (Thinking of¡­) ¡°Will I have to¡­ proof read myself like that?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to but if you do I can help you collect more volumes of your story.¡± Briar answered with a look half way between concern and regret. (Okay, so¡­ I won¡¯t have to go through all of that again.) While he may¡¯ve been glad he found the¡­ closure that he did, he was confident saying, (I really didn¡¯t want to go ripping anymore emotional wounds open.) The fact that he wouldn¡¯t have to, went a long way in soothing his nerves. (Making this just like any other job interview now, meaning it¡¯s time for the most important question.) ¡°Alright, what¡¯s the pay?¡± Because even if he would¡¯ve let them low ball him while depressed, he had enough spine right now that he was going to be damned if he was going to work for chump change. ¡°You get to read all the books there are!¡± Briar smiled as she stood and raised her arms towards the massive shelves full of books surrounding them. He waited a moment, before realizing she was waiting on his reaction. ¡°Okay¡­ and?¡± Briar blinked in confusion. ¡°And?¡± ¡°Yeah, and? I mean, being able to read on the job is a perk but¡­ it¡¯s not really pay?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not?¡± His would be boss frowned, sounding even more confused. ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± He confirmed, only staying because of her clear confusion and the bit of gratitude he felt for helping him find the spine to question this. ¡°Um¡­¡± Briar looked around, before pointing at his book. ¡°You get your book and all the perks I packed into it!¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure this thing is keeping me from doing more than it¡¯s helping me with.¡± He admitted, trying to form a fireball in hand only to get sparks. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s¡­ I¡¯ll, I¡¯ll look into that.¡± Briar promised, even as she began to look around with a bit more desperation. ¡°Trust me, by the time I fix it you¡¯ll be so wowed you¡¯ll be shooting for employee of the month! Heh-heh-heh¡­¡± He raised an unimpressed brow. ¡°Um¡­ what¡­ what exactly do you want to be paid?¡± Briar finally asked, looking both pained and embarrassed to be doing so. ¡°Money.¡± He answered dry as a desert. ¡°What kind?¡± He gave the visibly sweating librarian a flat look, before taking a deep breath and letting it out. ¡°You haven¡¯t been running this place for long have you?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± Briar admitted without meeting his gaze. He took another breath as he looked the nervous young woman over, before looking over the library atrium and thinking about how much it must have cost to set all of this up. (And that¡¯s before we get into however much magic it¡¯s taking to run¡­ everything I¡¯ve seen today.) The smart thing to do would be to get up and walk away, given how he had no idea whether or not he was going to get paid, but¡­ ¡°How important is this library to you?¡± ¡°It is everything to me.¡± Briar answered with no small amount of conviction. He ran a hand through his hair before pulling out one of his now seemingly unlimited special smokes. (Which given how much these things cost¡­) Lighting the cigarette he kept circling around a thought and a memory, something he¡¯d just told himself. (I¡¯d have to work a lot more than I like to make this work the way I want but¡­) He gave Briar another look, the librarian giving him a hopeful look as she waited for his answer. ¡°Fuck it.¡± He finally decided. ¡°I¡¯ll help you out, if only because you clearly need it.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Briar cheered, before launching herself forward and wrapping her arms around him. ¡°Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!!¡± ¡°Just remember, the moment you start making money off of this, I¡¯m going to demand a pay check.¡± He warned the surprisingly strong librarian as he tried to pry her off of him, not mentioning the thing the library had already given him. (¡°Hope isn¡¯t the worst lie to believe in¡­¡±) He smirked as he finally got Briar off of him. It¡¯d been a long time since he¡¯d had hope. Book (2) The Crimson Carnival: Prologue Book (2) The Crimson Carnival: Prologue --- Gregory Fischer --- Slowly his eyes opened as he dragged his dazed mind from the delightful depth of dreams that he¡¯d been a part of and back into the world he was more familiar with. With a groan, he made himself sit up as he stretched and popped out the various aches and pains that came from being an ex-soldier with a prosthetic. His body full of energy even as his mind fought off the last of his sleep, impatient to get the day started. Feeling a mix of the normal morning needs he finally rolled out of bed to take care of them all with a trip to the bathroom and a warm shower to help wake him up. Stepping out of the shower he pulled on a pair of jeans, slipped on a button up shirt, and grabbed his usual black vest before putting on his glasses and taking a look at his reflection in the mirror. A thirty-something man with a bit of brown stubble on his face and brown eyes with only the faintest rings around them stared back at him with a tired but determined look as he tied his shoulder length hair into his usual ponytail. Part of him actually wondering whether or not he should get a haircut. Feeling his stomach rumble he made his way to the kitchen before pulling out some eggs and frying them up alongside some toast in the toaster for breakfast. The pan went in the sink where he washed it clean before tossing his paper plate and plastic silverware in the trash can. With all of that taken care of he stepped out of his apartment filled with furniture and a couple of overflowing bookshelves, that had him thinking about getting another one to lighten their load as he made his way downstairs to Toni¡¯s shop below. Said mechanic was drinking a cup of coffee in her chair as she got her tools ready for the day while going over whatever paperwork she had for the day. ¡°Morning.¡± He called, leaning against the doorframe. His best friend blinked in surprise before turning his way with wide eyes. ¡°Greg? You¡¯re up¡­ early?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s¡­ a good day.¡± He decided with a wry grin as he subconsciously patted the book he was carrying under one arm. Toni spun around in her chair and gave him a once over with a smile. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re uh, you¡¯re looking like you¡¯re having a good day.¡± ¡°First day of the new job¡­ Honestly, I¡¯m a little excited.¡± He had to admit. ¡°Really? So you¡¯re taking up that job offer from that Briar Library thing?¡± Toni asked him with a bit of cautious skepticism. ¡°And you¡¯re actually excited to work for them?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a library job.¡± He reminded her to distract from all the ways it wasn¡¯t. ¡°I¡¯m mostly going to be collecting and sorting stories out based on what my boss told me the other day.¡± ¡°So not like your usual jobs?¡± His best friend checked once more. ¡°Because the other day you were looking kind of drained when you got back from your interview.¡± ¡°Well¡­ They handle a lot of magic books.¡± He tried to explain without explaining. ¡°It¡¯s just that during the¡­ interview, I realized how¡­ rusty I¡¯d let my other skills get. I mean I can throw a fire punch but¡­ my theory could use a lot more work than I thought.¡± Toni looked unconvinced, the mechanic never being overly fond of the ¡®magic¡¯ that half their society was built on, much more preferring the mechanical half of it. ¡°So it¡¯s just books and stuff. No actual fighting?¡± ¡°Not unless the people we get the stories from put up a fight.¡± The fact that his own story put him so thoroughly through the ringer was not something he was going to tell her. (I don¡¯t need to make her worry. Especially not with how much worry I¡¯ve given her these last few years¡­) She stared at him for a moment before eventually nodding. ¡°Good. After everything you¡¯ve been through, something quiet will be good for you.¡± He thought about everything that happened at the library for better and for worse before giving a small nod of his own. ¡°Yeah, I think it will too.¡± ¡°Then get going!¡± Toni smiled at him. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t blow this by being late on your first day.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t be!¡± He called back as he made his way towards the shop¡¯s front door, ready to take on whatever his job would throw at him. Once on the streets he found himself freezing as he realized just how crowded the main street was, a number of pedestrians already making their ways all over as he stood on the shop¡¯s stoop trying to steady his slowly spiraling nerves. (Shit¡­ forgot how overcrowded the main streets are¡­) Not quite able to handle this much hustle and bustle he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, smoking the entire thing as he tried to use the chemicals within to steady his nerves.Stolen story; please report. He couldn¡¯t help but grimace as the door opened behind him. ¡°You okay?¡± ¡°Yeah, just¡­ overestimated how good of a day it was.¡± He admitted as he pulled out a second cigarette. He didn¡¯t turn around, not wanting to see what expression Toni was making, instead using the idea of what that might be to steele himself before stepping onto the main street. And ducking into the first alley that would take him to the off street route he usually took everywhere. (I really need to ask how to work that summoning trick with my regular smokes.) He sighed as he pulled out a third cigarette, leaving him with maybe half of a pack of the skull marked carton of white sticks. The back alleys were filled with their usual amount of filth swept out of sight of the various store and business fronts of the tall cramped city streets. A sight that he could usually ignore, but stood out to him today after having actually seen how clean and proper the main street was. Even the few other people on this route stood out as a stark reminder of how few people were confident walking them when compared to the numerous people who felt safe on the main street. Even with his good mood he wasn¡¯t willing to take the city bus, but even with these recent reminders, the small bit of pep that remained in his step was enough to shave a decent amount off of his usual route. Enough so that he actually made the trip in just under an hour for once, his confidence just high enough to risk a few public shortcuts on his way to the library. Looking up the steps to the library he couldn¡¯t help himself as the bit of giddiness he¡¯d woken up with once more made itself known as he slowly made his way to what he was hoping would become another sanctuary from the world outside of Toni¡¯s shop. The fact that he was the only one going up the steps just made that feel all the more possible, even if he wasn¡¯t making his way up the steps to this library. He paused with his hand on the door, closing his eyes as he remembered Briar¡¯s previous instructions on how to return to the library. His mind focused on the image of the black rose and thorns that made up the emblem of the Black Briar Library before pushing the door open. Opening his eyes as he was enraptured by silence, he found himself in a massive atrium far bigger than the building he¡¯d previously entered. The room filled with cool grays and dark blacks that did little to distract from a number of books that would¡¯ve been obscene in any setting other than a library. As the door clicked shut behind him he carelessly ventured forward into the building, doing his utmost best to ignore the things moving in the shadows. A mystery he was sure to figure out if he spent enough time in what he knew to be no ordinary library. (I hope¡­) Regardless, while this was one of the weirdest and magically potent places he¡¯d ever seen, he was fully aware that this place meant no harm (even if it could do a fair amount¡­) ¡°Gregory Fischer!¡± A voice called from behind him. Spinning on his heels he found a young woman with pitch black hair smiling up at him through her own glasses. One that most certainly hadn¡¯t been there five seconds ago when he¡¯d passed through that very spot. ¡°Briar Black.¡± He nodded back since they were apparently using their full names. ¡°Oh! You can just call me Briar!¡± The head of this eldritch library told him. ¡°Then call me Gregory¡­ or Fischer, don¡¯t really care either way.¡± He shrugged, not really used to doing this whole small talk thing with his employers. (Usually they just tell me what they want done and where to pick up the second half of my money.) ¡°Wonderful!¡± Briar laughed practically bouncing in place. ¡°Excited?¡± He asked, raising a half amused brow. ¡°So excited!¡± The librarian nodded. ¡°With you here now I¡¯ve increased my number of librarians by one hundred percent! My brother is going to be so jealous with his one partner at a time.¡± ¡°Okay¡­ When you say that do you mean you¡¯ve got someone other than me working here?¡± He checked to make sure he was understanding. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve made sure that Mr. Peabody was present to meet you. He¡¯s over this way.¡± Briar explained as she led him towards a set of doors that he was sure hadn¡¯t been there just a moment before. ¡°Right, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be good to meet this¡­ Mr. Peabody.¡± He smiled tersely as he followed after. (Maybe he can tell me why Briar has no understanding of money.) ¡°And here is our other librarian, Mr. Peabody!¡± Briar introduced as she pushed the doors open to reveal a- (Hold up.) ¡°This is Mr. Peabody?¡± He couldn¡¯t help but frown as his boss started petting a white and gray dog wearing what looked like a saddle bag on its back and a set of glasses on its face. ¡°Yep. I knew that I needed the best person I could find for my first librarian and then I found out that Mr. Peabody here is the goodest boi!¡± Briar explained, clearly not seeing the issue that he was. He took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose before letting it out. ¡°Okay¡­ and tell me is Mr. Peabody good at his job?¡± ¡°Oh, he¡¯s the best scout I could¡¯ve ever asked for.¡± Briar happily nodded. ¡°Any time I need to find a new story Mr. Peabody here will wander off and find me a place with a bunch of new stories to collect when I follow him!¡± He took another deep breath before letting it out. ¡°Right, so¡­ you explained the other day that the whole point of the Black Briar Library is to collect stories, and Mr. Peabody here somehow finds you them?¡± ¡°Uh-huh, though he insists on finding them because while he¡¯s not good at collecting them he can track down the most interesting stories out there!¡± His new (and mildly insane) boss assured him. ¡°In fact that¡¯s part of why I brought him here to meet you today!¡± ¡°Really?¡± He asked in a tone dry as the dessert. ¡°Yeah, since he refuses to collect stories he can take you somewhere he¡¯s scouted and you can collect the story instead!¡± Briar told him, before glancing at the dog. ¡°In fact Mr. Peabody here even went out of his way to find a special place for your first day!¡± Despite his skepticism the dog pulled out a book from within the saddle bag and walked over before offering it to him. The Crimson Carnival Chapter I: Librarian Duties The Crimson Carnival Chapter I: Librarian Duties --- Gregory Fischer --- (Well, isn¡¯t that inviting¡­) His face twisted into what could charitably be called a grin as he looked at what was either a fantasy or horror novel cover. Deciding to stall on that particular gamble, he instead turned his attention back towards Briar and asked her, ¡°So, how is this supposed to work exactly? I just open the book and¡­¡± ¡°And the library¡¯s magic will drop you off at whatever location Mr. Peabody has scouted out.¡± Briar smiled, practically bouncing in place. ¡°Just like in your interview!¡± On that note he wondered, ¡°How much of my interview is going to be applicable here? We talked about the broad strokes the other day but we didn¡¯t really get into the details of it.¡± ¡°Well, I designed the interview to cover the broad strokes of everything. Didn¡¯t I?¡± Briar frowned thoughtfully before counting off on her fingers. ¡°First the book takes you somewhere with a story. Then once you find a compatible story, you start proofreading it during which you can make small Edits as needed, based on the available Ink. Wyou feel you¡¯re done, you can then read the story synopsis aloud to send your draft to the library. At which point we¡¯ll bring you back here to discuss things!¡± ¡°That¡­ was all covered¡­¡± (I guess¡­) ¡°But I¡¯d still like to¡­ clarify a few details. Just to make sure everything works out right.¡± (And I don¡¯t end up in a fight with another doppelganger.) ¡°Sure, ask away!¡± His new boss told him as she flopped back into a chair and crossed one leg over the other. ¡°After all, it''s a good boss''s job to help their employees however they can!¡± He kept his instinctive (Bullshit.) to himself given how he was pretty sure that the naive girl was trying her best here. (She just has no idea what she¡¯s doing. Which is why I¡¯m here I guess¡­) ¡°Right, so the other day we talked about how ¡®Stories¡¯ are the conceptual containers of an existence. A recording of something upon the¡­ Akashic Records, I think?¡± At the very least that was what he¡¯d gotten from the extremely technical conversation that assured him that practicals aside his theory was complete and utter shit outside of his affinities for smoke and fire. ¡°Now how am I supposed to know if a story I hear is an actual Story?¡± Briar let out a laugh like he¡¯d said something particularly foolish. ¡°Well, every story is a Story silly~¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± He drawled out, already reaching for his cigarettes as he instead tried, ¡°How do I know it¡¯s a story you¡¯re actually going to want for the library?¡± ¡°That¡¯s easy, I want all the stories!¡± Briar happily smiled as she spun in her chair. ¡°All the stories?¡± He repeated skeptically. ¡°All the stories.¡± The head librarian nodded. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his patience even as he sarcastically asked, ¡°So if I were to pick up some random bar story?¡± ¡°I¡¯d love to hear it.¡± Briar assured him, the side of her mouth twitching. ¡°Especially if they¡¯re funny.¡± His eyes narrowed as he took a hit of his smoke and realized, ¡°You¡¯re messing with me.¡± ¡°A little bit.¡± Briar admitted, pinching her fingers together before more seriously explaining that. ¡°While all stories really are Stories, the conceptual weight and in turn value of every story is different. Just by going out the library will passively collect any smaller stories, histories, or rumors that occur near you via the connection to your personal book.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m guessing that that isn¡¯t what you¡¯re actually after?¡± He pressed, hoping to get a serious answer. The Head Librarian made a so-so gesture. ¡°While you could just passively collect those, and I¡¯d be content¡­ It¡¯ll take a lot of them to do anything for the Library. Stories with a greater conceptual weight however¡­ Well there¡¯s a lot of things we can do with those.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Okay, and how do I know how much conceptual weight a story has?¡± He frowned, because that was the question he¡¯d been trying to ask for a good minute now. ¡°Your Book will record any stories you start following, the more ¡®Acts¡¯ a story has the greater it¡¯s conceptual weight and the more work you¡¯ll have to put into recording it¡¯s container for the library.¡± Briar answered, before raising a finger. ¡°Though as promised, I can use some of that story power to unlock new chapters for your book. With the power being based on the story you collect! I tried to show you that by giving you new ones as you went through your own story, but since I spent most of it on making your Volume there wasn¡¯t much left over for that.¡± ¡°Makes sense¡­¡± (Stories are power. Stronger stories equal more power, but take more work. And more power of course equals more magic.) Or that¡¯s how he¡¯d understood it the first time around. ¡°So¡­ any other questions?¡± Briar checked as he took a moment to think and smoke. (Yeah,) He still had a few, but he was pretty sure if they got into another talk about magical theory they¡¯d get nothing else done, just like the day of his interview. (Better to focus until the job is done for now.) ¡°Anything you can tell me about wherever this place is taking me?¡± He asked, tapping the book cover. Briar tilted her head. ¡°Um, a circus¡­ with something dangerous? I think. I didn¡¯t really get the best look around when we solidified the connection between there and the library. You¡¯d have to ask Mr. Peabody for more details since he¡¯s the one who actually scouted it out.¡± He glanced at the dog happily panting away and got the distinct feeling that wasn¡¯t going to help him in the slightest. ¡°Speaking of, since this is going to be your first time in the field why don¡¯t you take him with you?¡± Briar suggested. ¡°Is that¡­ a good idea?¡± He didn¡¯t have much experience with animals. (Outside of burning the Chem and Anima mutated ones at least.) Something he felt his new boss would not like. ¡°Of course, even if he doesn¡¯t really do collections, he¡¯s still good at what he does do.¡± Briar assured him. ¡°If you have trouble finding a Story on your own he can lead you to one, or at the very least help you with any stories you find on your own. Given how you two will be working together it¡¯ll be good for you both to build a rapport now.¡± He gave the dog another look before shaking his head. ¡°Sure, but if he wanders off on his own I¡¯m not going to go looking for him.¡± As was he was going to have his hands full doing his actual job, let alone babysitting a dog. ¡°He¡¯s a big boy, he can take care of himself.¡± Briar shrugged before giving Mr. Peabody a look. ¡°Still, you should stay with Gregory in case he needs help. No going off to find an adventure for yourself, okay?¡± The dog of course didn¡¯t answer, and he was more focused on putting his cigarette out with his hand and tossing the spent butt back into his pack. ¡°Well, I guess this is it.¡± He sighed, looking down at the book with a crimson cover. ¡°Oh, before you go don¡¯t forget to pick one of your Volumes to bring with you.¡± Briar told him. ¡°We¡¯ve only got enough power to keep one of them active right now, so you¡¯ll have to pick between your ¡®Ashes of War¡¯ and ¡®The Black Briar Librarian¡¯. You¡¯re free to bring Ashes of War if that¡¯s what you feel safer with, but the Librarian books all resonate when near each other. Meaning you¡¯ll be able to borrow some of Mr. Peabody¡¯s power if you bring that one with you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll consider it.¡± He told her, not actually sure if he wanted to use the dog¡¯s power. (But it can¡¯t hurt to entertain her a bit, unless¡­) ¡°Is this something I can change whenever or only while I¡¯m here?¡± ¡°Only here.¡± Briar grimaced before hastily adding. ¡°For now!¡± He opened his book up and pulled up ¡®Volumes Collected¡¯ before once more looking at the two ¡®Volumes¡¯ that he¡¯d read on the day of his interview. Figuring that a review wouldn¡¯t hurt given how in and out of it he¡¯d been by the end of both his ¡®Proofreading¡¯ and Briar¡¯s lecture. (¡°The Black Briar Librarian (Volume I) -Enhance Mind Resistance (+). -Black Briar Librarian: This soul is a member of the [Black Briar Library].¡±) There was a lot more to it than just that, for the first volume but it was what he could make out through the eldritch script that continued to creep and crawl across the page rendering most of the page illegible when it wasn¡¯t rending his mind. All he could tell for sure between Briar¡¯s explanation and the book¡¯s text is that as a member of the Black Briar Library, he¡¯d gain some kind of power from working with Mr. Peabody. A power that he couldn¡¯t define even as he could see the answer written on the edge of his vision. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the script that wasn¡¯t really there to fade before taking a calming breath and reading the other volume at his disposal. The one that whether because it was innate to him, or because of the trial he¡¯d gone through to unknowingly acquire it provided far more details for him in what he could make out while causing far less stress. (¡°The Ashes Of War (Volume I) -Smoldering Ashes: Costs I Fantasy Page- Quick Read. Search your Returned Library for a Melee or Fire Page and add it back to your hand. -Rekindling Ashes: When triggering Smoldering Ashes to draw a Melee or Fire Page, you can Consume III Stacks of Heat per Cost to immediately play it for Damage*II.¡±) He still didn¡¯t understand what all of that meant, even with Briar¡¯s attempt at an explanation a few days prior, but the fact that he understood a larger part of the Volume¡¯s eldritch secrets was reassuring in a way that the former Volume wasn¡¯t. ¡°So which one are you taking with you?¡± Briar asked her curiosity clear as she watched him with a gaze he swore could almost swear was reading him as if he were a book. The Crimson Carnival: Chapter II, The Fairgrounds The Crimson Carnival: Chapter II, The Fairgrounds --- Gregory Fischer --- Instead of focusing on Briar¡¯s reaction, he went ahead and opened the book Mr. Peabody had given him. An act that unleashed hundreds upon thousands of pages from the book, far more than it should¡¯ve been capable of containing as he and the dog were wrapped in a cocoon of glowing paper. He couldn¡¯t help but steel himself as he remembered what happened the last time this had occurred. How it had forced him to watch some of the more¡­ painful clips of his life. Things that while now healing -something they hadn¡¯t done in years- were still sore in a way he didn¡¯t want to poke. Mercifully, no such thing happened as instead the pages began to burn away leaving them in a completely new location from their previous one. An experience that even having been teleported once or twice before, was still a jarring experience. Even more so since he hadn¡¯t even felt the rush of magic that usually accompanied such an act. Looking around he realized that wherever he was it was late into the afternoon, the sun just a few hours from setting. (Shit, I¡¯d have to be on the other side of the world for that to happen.) He¡­ was putting a lot more faith in Briar¡¯s ability to get him home than he was really comfortable with. (Do not think about how complicated a teleportation matrix is. Do not think about how complicated a teleportation matrix is. Do not think about how complicated a teleportation matrix is.) Pulling out and lighting another cigarette, he forced himself to actually take in his surroundings beyond the sky and time of day. Something he¡¯d instinctively done first due to what happened the first time he¡¯d looked up after the library sent him somewhere. (Well, a lack of eldritch horrors is always a good start.) The buildings around him held all sorts of colorful attractions and were all surrounded by a number of lights that were currently off. Each building was vaguely shaped in a way that he could recall from the one or two times he¡¯d been to a fair or carnival back when he was a kid, and yet also strangely empty of hosts to maintain them. (Just means fewer people I have to deal with.) In the distance he could just barely make out a number of what he assumed to be rides of some kind, a massive ferris wheel being the most recognizable. (Can use that as a compass point.) Despite the festive surroundings, there were a few people he could sporadically see on the roads, but nowhere near the number he could usually find on the city streets. (Alright, as long as they don¡¯t get too close I can handle a few people here and there.) He ignored the way Mr. Peabody stared at him as he worked his way through three more cigarettes before finally saying, ¡°Alright, we¡¯re here and I need to figure out where to find a story. First step in a new environment is always recon.¡± He glanced at the dog. ¡°Which is supposed to be the scouts job¡­¡± Said dog continued to stare at him from behind its glasses. He took in a lungful of smoke before sighing it out and watching the smoke rise as he finished off the last cigarette of this little smoke break. With no real help here, he set out on his own keeping his head on a swivel as he tried to take in as much of these fairgrounds as he could, slowly building up a mental map. A mental map that told him (this place is massive. I¡¯ve been walking for at least an hour and I haven¡¯t seen any major landmarks outside of the ferris wheel and I can¡¯t tell if I¡¯m any closer to that thing.) If he didn¡¯t know better he¡¯d swear someone had enchanted these grounds with a spatial enchantment. A branch of magic that he only knew in so much as how to make implode, something he had no intention of testing while inside said possible enchantment. (And even then I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s what¡¯s going on here.) He could feel a faint amount of magic in the air, but it was spread too thin to really know what it was doing. More of an ambient existence like the faint thrum that was common to his own city, only noticeable because its underlying flavor was different despite being the same thing at its core. (Almost like someone slipping a different brand of cigarette into your carton.)Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. He was getting frustrated enough that he was tempted to stop for a smoke break, even if he¡¯d been steadily pulling new ones out of his pack as he marched along. (Seriously, where am I supposed to find a ¡®Story¡¯ in this place? Briar said the book would help me but¡­) With no better ideas, he went ahead and pulled the book out and found two edits to the main index. The first being a new section titled, Borrowed Books and a small change to Working Draft(s). Namely that (s) newly added to the end. Deciding to check with the section he had an actual frame of reference for, he focused on Working Draft(s) causing the book to flip to an index similar to the ones he¡¯d found in most of the other sections. Even if this one only had a single line. (¡°The Crimson Carnival?¡±) Focusing on that line pulled up another writer¡¯s brainstorming page, this one with a circle containing The Crimson Carnival with a single line and a circle around it that read (¡°Prologue(?)¡±) as if the book wasn¡¯t sure that was what this was or not. ¡°Real helpful¡­¡± He dryly told the book before flipping back to the main index and focusing on Borrowed Books to see what had been added to the magical book. A section that once opened, he found, looked very similar to his own Current Story. If compressed to a singular page rather than being spread across two like his own. The top half of the page was taken up by an ink picture of Mr. Peabody lay on the ground in front of a fireplace, looking like he was reading an open book in front of him. Below this was the shifting eldritch script that he was slowly adapting to, even if the words were both very similar and very different to what his own book contained. (¡°Name: Herman L. Peabody, Species: Lupus Sapien, Genre: Adventure, Classification: Tactician/Infiltrator/Scout, Derivative Addendum: None.¡±) He read with a frown, wondering if he should be offended that the book considered the dog to be a tactician and not him. Deciding that he was just going to put this under the category of ¡®Library Weirdness¡¯ and ignore it, he moved onto the next section listing a familiar set of symbolic attributes. (Slash, Blunt, Pierce, Mind, Spirit, Fire, Ice, Electric, Light, and Darkness¡­ With a circle and slash next to Mind, and a¡­ cracked shield(?) next to Fire.) That amused him, if only slightly. (So he¡¯s got no mind and is weak to fire¡­ sounds about right for an animal.) Pushing past the faint ache that was building from looking at the book for so long, he continued down the page expecting to find a section similar to his own collection of skills. Only instead he found something that looked more like an abbreviated pair of his Volumes, that were shifting twice as much as his own text. Enough so that he could only get the vaguest impressions from the second of the two, and only because of the overlap it had with one of his own Volumes. (¡°Black Briar Delivery Scout: This soul is a member of the Black Briar Library. Spend (1 Blank Page) to search a number of chapters from the top of your opponent¡¯s library equal to the number of faction members in play. If one of these chapters is legible and costs less than your faction count, you may pay the cost and read it.¡±) He found himself pinching the bridge of his nose as he snapped the book shut, trying to make sense of what any of that meant and finding himself coming up blank. The pain from reading so much eldritch scrawl at once being too much to focus right now. By the time his migraine had faded and he was halfway able to think again, he lit a new cigarette and puffed away at it. Hoping the chems would take the edge off before his head exploded. A barking sound forced him to wince, the sound doing nothing to help him even as it drew his attention towards Mr. Peabody a fair bit away from him staring at him. ¡°Look I¡¯ve got a migraine, we can get moving once it calms down.¡± He told the dog. The dog -not understanding him- barked once more, before looking at something in front of it. ¡°Stupid dog¡­¡± He grumbled, forcing himself to make his way over if only to spare himself more of that stupid barking. (Remember, your boss won¡¯t like you roasting her pet alive.) Even then it was still a tempting thought. As he got closer he realized the dog was staring at a stand of some kind between two cardboard clowns, the stand having what looked like a massive map of the park. And more importantly a number of paper maps. (Where was this thing an hour ago?) Taking the map in, he found a number of attractions listed and while he doubted that the various rides would find him one of these stories Briar wanted, he did see a few that might have something. The Crimson Carnival: Chapter III, Lost At The Ferris Wheel The Crimson Carnival: Chapter III, Lost At The Ferris Wheel --- Gregory Fischer --- Over the last hour that he¡¯d been attempting to explore this place, he¡¯d come to the conclusion that something was going on with the place to mess with its proportions. As demonstrated by his attempts to get closer to the only landmark he¡¯d been able to see in this place. Which is why rather than risking getting even more lost in an attempt to find somewhere new, he was going to see if the map could get him to said landmark. Namely the giant ferris wheel in the center of the carnival slowly spinning away as the day had progressed. The map itself was seemingly harmless, just a colorful little paper that just based on his last hour could not actually contain the entirety of the park on its surface. Even his bored attempts to see if there was some kind of magic bound to the paper proved ultimately fruitless. Yet despite this, with the map in hand he still somehow made progress towards the ferris wheel, the giant construct slowly growing larger as he did. The thing towering as high as some of the skyscrapers back home in the city¡¯s cramped streets, which stood in fair contrast to how low every other building near it was by comparison. The fact that he¡¯d spotted several more of the map stands since picking up the first, in spite of not seeing a single one during his initial exploration assured him that even if he couldn¡¯t sense anything weird with the paper there was something weird going on with it. (Maybe it works like a passkey of some kind to get around whatever field this place is covered in.) It wouldn¡¯t be the first time he¡¯d seen a blanket perception field in play, but it would be the first time seeing one outside of a building or active warzone. (Especially on this scale¡­ but it makes a lot more sense than the spatial theory at least¡­ Not that either really helps me.) The longer this all dragged on the more he just wanted to find a story and get back the library, the weirdness slowly eating at his paranoia as he burned through more and more of his cigarettes. (I really need to ask Briar how to make regular cigarettes instead of my special smokes if all her jobs are going to be like this.) With that thought in mind and Mr. Peabody walking just a bit in front of him, he finally stepped into a large clearing of sorts around the ferris wheel. As if all the other buildings nearby shied away from the massive behemoth. (Damn, this thing is obscenely big¡­) It was fully possible that alone was the reason this thing was at the center of the carnival, but something in his gut was sure that, (there¡¯s got to be a story to this thing.) He took a look around the clearing wondering if there were any festival employees or something he could interro- talk to about the ferris wheel or any of the other weirdness he was picking up about this place. Even if the latter was likely to be a deadend given how even in his city where magic and science went hand and hand very few people actually understood more than the utmost basics about it. (And I don¡¯t see this place being full of scholars. At best I¡¯ll find a fellow theory dropout who put their stuff into practice.) In the end though the carnival appeared to still be as empty as it had been the entire time he¡¯d been there, if not more so with how the only person he could see was a small- (Is that kid?) He frowned, seeing a small pale child with dark hair staring up longingly at the ferris wheel. A second glance around the place had him wondering, (where¡¯s this kid¡¯s parents?) With the way this place had been, if they¡¯d been separated the kid might never find them on his own, and¡­ ¡°Fuck¡­¡± He cursed. Mr. Peabody looked at him curiously. ¡°Ignore me, I¡¯m just sticking my nose in someone else¡¯s business.¡± He told the dog as he started toward the child, figuring even if he couldn¡¯t find a ¡®Story¡¯ he¡¯d at least help this kid find their parents. (Me and my bleeding heart¡­)Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! As he got closer to the kid he realized that they were wearing a black and white outfit not too different from what he¡¯d seen all of the clown displays wearing. Something he¡¯d never really seen in the city off of a TV screen, with several large fuzzy spheres on their shoes and shirt acting like buttons, and that was before taking into account the massive white thing they had wrapped around their collar. (I guess they¡¯re dressed up for the carnival or whatever.) Even when he was standing right next to the kid, they didn¡¯t notice him, their eyes still staring up at the ferris wheel as they sort of bounced on their toes. ¡°You okay, kid?¡± The little one startled before turning to him with half-lidded eyes wrapped in black paint alongside the pale grayish white that made up the rest of their face barring their nose. He couldn¡¯t help but grimace at the way the kid inched away from him, more than aware of how offputting he could look even on a good day. Running a hand across the back of his neck, he tried to reassure the kid by explaining that, ¡°You just look a little young to be out here on your own and¡­¡± It was occurring to him that he didn¡¯t really have much experience with kids, not outside of- (The little bodies laid surrounded by cinder and ash floating through the air despite his best efforts to-) He shook his head. (Don¡¯t think about that.) Instead he focused on the kid in front of him, (the one I can help¡­) He sunk to a crouch so that he wasn¡¯t quite towering over the little one. ¡°Do you need help finding your parents?¡± ¡°Parents¡­?¡± The child slowly repeated, before shaking their head. ¡°I don¡¯t have those¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± He grimaced. Mr. Peabody bumped into his side, before sitting in front of the kid and panting happily. ¡°Doggy!¡± The child smiled with half-lidded eyes. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ right.¡± He nodded with a wry grin. ¡°Do you want to pet the¡­ doggy?¡± The kid turned to him with an excited if half-asleep look. ¡°Can I?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± He awkwardly assured the kid. The little clown nervously reached out and started petting Mr. Peabody, the dog bumping against the kid¡¯s hand and clearly enjoying the treatment much as it had when Briar had been doing the same. After letting the child enjoy themselves for a few moments, he risked asking, ¡°If uh, if you don¡¯t have¡­ parents, um, who looks after you?¡± ¡°Mm, Big Sis is the one who looks after us¡­¡± The kid answered, more concerned with petting the dog than talking to him. ¡°And¡­ where is your Big Sis?¡± He prodded, hoping to get the kid back where they belonged so that he could get back to his job without worrying about this. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± The child admitted, not seeming to really care that they didn¡¯t. (Worrying, but maybe they¡¯re just too young to consider it on their own¡­) He couldn¡¯t help but run a hand down his face at that thought. ¡°Alright¡­ well when was the last time you saw your big sis?¡± The kid blinked, thinking about the question before saying, ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± He sighed, tapping his foot and really tempted to grab one of his cigarettes. (No, those things are terrible for kids. Especially one this young¡­) ¡°What does your sister look like?¡± ¡°She¡¯s super pretty!¡± The child smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure, but¡­ What color hair does she have?¡± He tried, realizing he was going to have to be a bit more specific with the kid. ¡°Yellow and orange like the sunrise!¡± The little one answered, pointing towards the horizon that had started to change color as the sun began to set. He didn¡¯t bother to correct the kid as he frowned at the skyline realizing how late it was getting. (His sister is probably worried sick by now.) Despite knowing that he likely wasn¡¯t going to find her he still took a look around the clearing hoping to find the kid¡¯s sister. (And she¡¯s not here¡­) ¡°Can we ride the ride?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± He blinked, turning his attention back to the child tugging at his shirt. ¡°I¡¯m too small to ride by myself.¡± The kid explained pointing up the stairs to an open carriage on the wheel. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s a good idea.¡± (Especially if I want to find their sister before it gets dark¡­) His eyes trailed up the behemoth of a ride, thinking about how long such a massive ride would take. (Then again, we might be able to spot where their sister is if we ride it¡­ Though she¡¯d probably have moved by the time we come back down¡­) ¡°Please? I¡¯ve been saving my tickets.¡± The child asked him before digging inside their shirt and pulling out a long string of orange paper tickets. ¡°I have enough for both of us¡­ I think¡­¡± Book (II) The Crimson Carnival: Chapter IV, Day Ends And The Carnival Begins Book (II) The Crimson Carnival: Chapter IV, Day Ends And The Carnival Begins --- Gregory Fischer --- Part of him was tempted to take the kid onto the ferris wheel, seeing how excited they were but given how late it was getting and the fact that this kid didn¡¯t actually know him. (Clearly no one taught this kid stranger danger¡­) ¡°Kid, you really should not be spending¡­ however long this ride takes with a stranger.¡± He sighed, once more crouching so he was eye level with the kid. ¡°It¡¯s not safe. There are a lot of creeps out there that could hurt you.¡± The child slowly blinked at him. ¡°So we¡¯re not riding?¡± ¡°No. We¡¯re going to try and find your sister.¡± He told the kid as he stood back up. ¡°Then you guys can ride it together rather than with some burned out old guy.¡± ¡°But sis never has time to do anything¡­¡± The lost child frowned glumly. Something he couldn¡¯t help but wince at. ¡°Then¡­ I¡¯ll just have to have a talk with her.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure what he could do, especially if some girl was stuck raising their kid sibling by themselves, but¡­ (Is there really any but? What can I do if they¡¯re in that bad of a spot? I¡¯m not from here, nor am I in the best spot myself¡­) He waited for the kid to stash their tickets back in their strange little suit before pulling out his map and telling himself to, (Just focus on what you can do Greg¡­) ¡°Alright, it looks like there¡¯s a help center here on the other side of the park. Maybe they can help us track your sister down.¡± (At the very least it¡¯s better than wandering blind with whatever effect is going on here.) ¡°Okay¡­¡± The lost child nodded, not putting up any protest and just sounding as depressed as Gregory was getting. (I need to cheer the kid up.) He grimaced, knowing that his ¡®good day¡¯ was going to become a ¡®bad one¡¯ if this kept up, and that (the kid doesn¡¯t need to see that kind of thing from me.) Looking around the clearing he found a small cotton candy machine, with a clown manning it. (That¡¯ll do.) ¡°Watch the kid for a second.¡± He idly told Mr. Peabody, hoping the dog was smart enough to stay. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a second.¡± After making his way over to the stand he pulled out some money from his wallet and offered it to the clown, a tall masculine figure wearing a smiling mask over their face. The clown shook their head before pointing to a nearby sign. When he tried to read it he found the script to be in a language he couldn¡¯t understand, before after not even a moment it began to creep and crawl until it became something legible to him, an ever so faint ache inside of his head. (Was that the carnival or¡­) He shifted the book in his hand before sighing as he read the sign telling him they only accepted tickets for their treats, not cash. ¡°Look, this isn¡¯t for me. This is for the kid over there.¡± He told the clown. ¡°He¡¯s lost and upset. I¡¯m just trying to get him something to cheer him up until I can get him to his sister. I¡¯ve got credit chits, you give me one of these cotton candy things and you can pocket this for yourself. No need to tell your bosses.¡± The clown stared at him silently for a moment, before grabbing a stick off the stand and putting it into the machine where it began to spit out a flurry of candy far sweeter than anything he¡¯d ever eat. (But kids like sweets right?)Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He set the credits on the counter as he accepted the treat. ¡°Thanks man.¡± With the treat in hand he made his way back to the lost child, who accepted it with wide -for the kid- eyes before taking a rather large chomp out of cotton candy. ¡°Yummy~¡± He gave the kid a wry grin. ¡°Like it?¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± The lost child smiled, showing off the candy dissolving across their teeth. ¡°Good, but now we need to get going if we want to find your big sis.¡± He told the kid, offering his hand. ¡°Al-wight.¡± The lost child nodded, taking his hand. With neither of them at risk of a depressed spiral, they started making their way through the park following the directions on the map in the hopes of not getting lost to whatever magic blanketed these fairgrounds. As they did so, he couldn¡¯t help but notice how rather than the number of people decreasing, the number wandering the fairgrounds had only increased as the sun began to kiss the horizon. (I guess this is some kind of night festival or something.) He¡¯d seen a few similar parties back home, but they weren¡¯t exactly a common occurrence, and certainly not something he¡¯d ever attended given his own¡­ issues. (At least none of them were ever this big¡­) Luckily, no one seemed to give much mind to the scruffy burn out and the monochrome child as they made their way through. Everyone else seemingly enjoying themselves at the various carnival games, or munching away at overly sugary treats like the kid was. (At least some people are having fun tonight.) With all of these people out and about, and his head on a swivel for the kid¡¯s sister, he noticed something he hadn¡¯t before when he¡¯d been simply glazing people out and hoping they¡¯d ignore him if he ignored them. Namely that all of the clowns attending the various attractions were all wearing masks, be it the one handing out toys at a shooting game, the one handing out balloons, or the ones handing out treats for tickets. Whatsmore, now that he was watching him he realized that (none of the clowns are talking¡­) His fingers itched to reach for a cigarette, possibly one of his ¡®special¡¯ smokes as he started to get a bad feeling that he knew had nothing to do with the growing crowd. ¡°I¡­ think we need to find your sister and get both of you out of here.¡± ¡°Why?¡± The lost child asked, sounding confused. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ve got a bad feeling. Something isn¡¯t right¡­¡± He tried to explain, not wanting to make the little one worry more than he had to. (After all, if it comes down to it I can protect the kid.) ¡°Like a tummy ache?¡± The kid frowned in concern. ¡°Heh, something like that.¡± He huffed. Before he could say anything else, Mr. Peabody bumped into his leg fairly hard. ¡°What is¡­¡± He trailed off as he noticed the dog glaring at something, not quite growling but still with its teeth bared. Following the dog¡¯s gaze he found a clown stepping out from between two of the stalls with a number of balloons in hand. (Okay, why¡¯s that one setting the dog off?) The clown wasn¡¯t that different from one they¡¯d passed a few minutes ago. He almost dismissed it, if not for the fact that he noticed another clown shortly following the first, and then a third after that. Ever so slowly he turned to the kid, and crouched pretending he was distracted by his temporary ward, when in reality he was using his peripheral vision to look around. And even with his vision being less than stellar outside of his glasses, it wasn¡¯t that hard to notice just how many clowns were stepping out of the dark corners of the festival. ¡°Oh, the sun¡¯s going sleepy-bye¡­¡± The kid told him, drawing his attention to the horizon where the last few rays of light were fleeing as if scared of what was about to occur. He wrapped his arms around the lost child and picked them up. For a brief moment, a second so short that he thought he might¡¯ve imagined it, the entire festival went pitch black save for the glowing red eyes of every clown in the carnival. Every light in the carnival flashed on as music began to play throughout the park, a jolly tune of fun and excitement for all who heard it, one that was only highlighted as fireworks began to erupt across the sky bathing everything in colorful delight. A direct contrast to the screams that began to tear through the air. All around them the clowns tossed their masks to the side, revealing smiling mouths full of fangs and glowing red eyes as one and all they lunged for the nearest festival goer before sinking their teeth in. He pressed the kid¡¯s face into his chest as he dove between two of the attractions. Not wanting to risk the child seeing the slaughter as he got them off the main street and hopefully away from the Crimson Carnival¡¯s Carnivorous Clowns. And as he ran into the darkness, clutching the child close as screams echoed all around, he heard a joyous laugh tinged with insanity spread from the speakers all over the park before that mad voice announced that, ¡°Now the Crimson Carnival truly begins!¡±